The Hole in the 'Verse
by Arenas
Summary: AU, postBDM fic. Simon and Kaylee can’t get off Osiris on their own, so the Big Damn Heroes will have to come in and save the day. But what does River have to say on the matter? Chapter 15 up!
1. Prologue

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13 for now, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: An AU fic that starts right at the end of the BDM. _Serenity_ and her crew are learning to cope, and still flying, but it's getting harder all the time.

**Disclaimer**: I don't have any right to Firefly beyond watching the show and movie on repeat at ridiculous hours of the night.

**Author's Notes: **A prologue to give bearing on where this story begins and how it's different than the movie. It's pretty obvious, I think. Reposted with even less errors.

_Serenity_ had bounced to a sick and painful halt eventually. Granted, it may not have been pretty or graceful, but there weren't any immediate casualties that anyone had noticed yet. Considering that they had stopped in a hangar without smashing into bits on the far wall, Wash had every reason to be smug with his piloting. He even managed to take time to look pleased with himself.

"I'm a leaf on the wind…" he grinned. However, Mal didn't give him a chance to gloat long, nor even finish his sentence.

"Yeah, shiny, come on," the captain snapped. Wash's eyes clouded in distaste for a moment, before he unstrapped himself from the chair so he could stand up.

There was no way to see the Reaver harpoon in the dull, red light of the half-dead console. It hurtled through the window, producing the most spectacular crash that any of them had ever heard. It was as much warning as any of them received; Mal and Zoë could only watch as the spike buried itself into and drove completely through Wash's shoulder. The pilot didn't even have a chance to scream in pain as the spike drew back again—with Wash still attached. It rammed him into the spider-webbed glass before it finally dislodged from his arm, but by then, he had mercifully passed out.

"Husband!" Zoë nearly tackled the unconscious man in her haste to kneel beside him. Watching Zoë, his solid and dependable right hand Zoë, snap so suddenly rattled Mal deeply. There was a point where his mind was churning mud in its need to get out of the rut it has dug itself into. First and second, they needed the doctor, and neither he nor Zoë should have considered moving Wash very far. The Reavers had made their options painfully limited in the span of a few short seconds.

"He's still breathin'," Mal commented.

Zoë paused. "Yes, sir."

"We're gonna have to get him off _Serenity_. He's too hurt to hide, prolly won't make it. We move him…Simon'll take care of him."

"We shouldn't move him, sir." It was as close to disobeying a command that Zoë had ever come, even during the war. It was obvious that she cared deeply for the funny little pilot, but it was a very inconvenient time for Mal to be reminded of the fact. They needed to get off the bridge immediately because Reavers didn't know how to leave well enough alone. He gave Zoë a stern look.

"I think I know that, Zoë, havin' treated many folk like yerself, but-" At that moment, another spike shattered the glass of the window even further, the harpoon itself barely missing Mal's torso. He dropped to the floor where Zoë had covered Wash to prevent more glass to pierce his skin. Mal had to grip her arm to get her attention again. "Listen, Reavers is makin' it awful hard to do what should be done. We ain't got the resources to fight 'em here, and we still gotta send the message. You trust Simon, he'll get Wash done up right."

The harpoon got sucked back out the window again, but Mal didn't miss the exhaled sigh above the noise of further glass smashing. "Yes, sir."

"Think we can carry him out one of the chairs?" He gestured at the empty leather seat formerly occupied by Mal during their exhilarating crash landing.

"Yes, sir."

Mal nodded wordlessly. She had dropped into warrior mode to spare herself the pain. He found he couldn't blame her; the mindset was proven to help a person function effectively in battle, and if this wasn't battle, Reavers were cuddly, little hill folk.

Mal took the upper part of Wash's body and helped Zoë manoeuver him into the still warm chair. It didn't take much of an effort to unscrew the seat from the floor, but carrying Wash out under a fresh hail of glass shards was a challenge. Mal wished he'd had his brown war coat with him as an improvised shield, but there wasn't any time for it. They quick stepped through _Serenity_'s lengthy hallways and barely managed to make it down the flight of stairs into the cargo bay without losing Wash in the process. They were almost to the common area; Mal and Zoë could both hear the whimpers of fear. Jayne met them at the entrance to the infirmary.

"What in the hell went on up there?" Jayne's fierce scowl was directed at the captain, but he didn't look as though he would have minded if Zoë had answered.

"No time. Simon, make sure you have your bag. We're sendin' that signal," Mal replied coldly. He scanned his assembled crew, taking in their various states of distress. So far, Kaylee looked the worst, having gotten extremely pale at the sight of Wash, but a reassuring squeeze from Simon's hand brought her back to herself.

"But _Serenity_—" she started.

"No time, Kaylee. We're movin'. Bring weapons, whatever you need to make an impression on the _hwoon dahns_, but we're makin' a stand."

"This ain't no Battle of Serenity. That was ages ago," Jayne snarled. "I ain't lookin' to repeat it neither."

"You know what, Jayne? This is the Battle of Serenity ain't got finished. We're still fightin' the Alliance, 'n we're still fightin' for _Serenity_. I ain't lookin' for a repeat any more 'n you. You can stand beside us, or you can stay here 'n die anyway. I don't care which you choose, but if you do somehow live by the coward's way, you ain't welcome on my boat no more. C'mon," he addressed the rest of the crew, "let's go."

Mal and Zoë left for the cargo bay first, wary of jostling Wash. The five remaining members of his crew followed, an inherent understanding having been reached. This was the way they were going to live. If there was one thing that Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds knew how to do, it was survive. And considering the lapse of time since his last stint as sergeant, Mal didn't seem to be any worse for the role, either.

The ramp was extended to allow the crew to exit. Once they were all out of the bay, they began to notice their surroundings: a great cavernous room with all manner of boxes and things to hide behind should the need for combat and fortification arise. Mal and Zoë wasted no time in setting the pilot back down on the floor.

"How did this happen?" Simon asked weakly. No arm had any right to just hang limply by a few strands of muscle and skin.

"Reavers. Sent a harpoon through the window; Wash just happened to catch it in the shoulder," Mal elaborated briefly as Zoë fussed over her husband. "You do what you can, get him stable. See if we can't get him to a respectable hospital soon.

"He needs blood, Mal. The only option might be amputation-"

"No," Zoë hissed. "You can save his arm."

Simon looked forlorn. "If I had adequate supplies maybe, but not like this."

"You do the best with what you've got," Mal replied heatedly. "_Serenity_ can't fly, and even if we could, we can't outfly these _ching-wah TSAO duh liou mahngs_. We ain't got the luxury of sterile conditions, nor can we go lookin' for em. We're humped, Simon, and I ain't got time to argue with you. Fix what you can." He turned to his weapons experts. "Jayne, Zoë, we lose much of this ground, we can't get it back. I'll send the message, maybe help'll come for us. Ain't so doubtful as it might seem, just don't lose this ground."

"I can rig the doors so's they don't reopen once they close," Kaylee offered. She still looked slightly green from the whole situation, but she would be strong because it was expected of her.

"Kaylee, do whatever you gotta do. You're our mechanical genius, 'n every little thing's appreciated."

"Death. So very much death…" River whispered.

"Nobody is going to die," Mal said forcefully. It was a weak attempt at best to stave off River's ominous psychic tendencies, but the comment did its job to ease the tension a bit. That was all Mal wanted or even had time for. He didn't waste time on goodbyes or seein' his troops armour up. He fingered the hologram cube in his pocket as he jogged down the hall towards Mr. Universe's private lair. The cube that carried the message that had gotten them all in a heap of trouble and their best friend killed in the span of a few days and was now—once broadcasted throughout the 'verse—about to be a major thorn in the Alliance's side. Why, they were this close, they might as well have already won the battle.

It didn't prevent him from once taking his right hand off the gun at his hip.


	2. The Book of Mal I

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13 for now, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: An AU fic that starts right at the end of the BDM. _Serenity_ and her crew are learning to cope, and still flying, but it's getting harder all the time.

**Disclaimer**: I doubt I do, but it's nice to fantasize that I own Wash since I saved him from a cruel and unnecessary death. I still own nothing.

**Author's Notes: **Now we've got a story. Everything that happened on Mr. Universe's planet after Mal went off to send the message still happened. Kaylee and Simon did NOT have kinky sex (plot development later on, you see), but otherwise…yeah, I think things proceeded as normal. Honour Roll at the end.

**The Book of Mal**

_part 1_

It had taken weeks of hard labour to get _Serenity_ into flying condition again. When they had crash-landed, they'd shorn the two side engines off that allowed the Firefly to turn and maneuver in the air, not to mention the numerous dents and holes and other problems. It was almost a hopeless case at first, everyone recovering from one battle wound or another. Nearly everyone had gotten shot at least once, and those who hadn't gotten shot had other unfortunate maladies. Nobody was quite sure how they managed, but Kaylee and Mal had both claimed that _Serenity_ was space-worthy again. There was only the problem of the pilot.

"And who's flying this thing if it isn't me?" Wash asked sourly. He was propped up on fluffy, white pillows on the bench in the infirmary with his wife beside him, massaging his right hand. Everybody was carefully not looking at the left hand sleeve, which was pinned neatly to the tacky Hawaiian shirt.

"The captain knows how to fly. Sort of…" Zoë amended lightly. A shudder passed through the newly refurbished _Serenity_, causing Wash to wince.

"I don't know if I believe that."

"Oh honey, have a little faith. The captain isn't a complete _BUN dahn_," Zoë placed a tender kiss on his forehead. He smiled slightly, leaning into the touch.

"Zoë, I'm going to have to ask you…" Simon trailed off bashfully. She rolled her eyes.

"I know my husband is a lazy sot and needs all the rest he can get." She kissed him again before standing awkwardly; time spent crouching having taken its toll on her still stiff bullet hole. "Try not to cause too much trouble, right, husband?"

"Right. No evil pranks. I got it. No promises, but I promise to let you say 'I told you so' if anything goes wrong."

Zoë left the infirmary after shooting the pilot a gentle smirk. Wash echoed it slightly wistfully before he sighed. "Am I ever going to get to stay awake for more than five minutes?"

"It is my sincerest hope that you will," the doctor answered.

"You're not helping."

Simon's smile faltered for a moment. "You'd better sleep."

"That's what they all say. It's usually women…and they completely underestimate my stamina."

"I'd dope you if I felt you needed it."

Wash bit back a yawn stubbornly. "I hate it when people that aren't me are right. Especially the ones I'm trying to bed."

"I'm sure Zoë shares the same sentiment. It'll get better," Simon said softly as Wash drifted off. It had to, for both their sakes.

* * *

"Now why is parts always fallin' off my gorramn ship!" Mal cried exasperatedly. Something about that primary bumper panel was utterly cursed and it fell off like _tah-sur SUO-yo DEE-yure duh biao-tze duh MAH_. And now that the initial rant was out of the way, Mal could collect his thoughts. River looked amused by his mental outburst and didn't bother trying to hide her smirk. 

"You don't repeat none of that," Mal added.

"I am entirely capable of swearing without my brother's consent. He is lost and unable to express himself, while I explore languages and thought to the best of my ability," she smiled lightly.

"And do it without express permission. People don't trust folk like that." Mal returned his glance to the computer to check their course. They needed to head to a safe planet where no one could find them and Wash could get his arm looked at. Mal couldn't suppress the sigh.

"My brother saved him," she said softly.

"I know Simon saved him, lil albatross. Don't make it any better than it is."

"Couldn't be helped. Too much blood and pain. Splatters of stuff and guts everywhere. Gruesome. He did the right thing."

"By him," Mal muttered.

"You miss him." Little River was relentless when she probed. In a way, it helped, having someone knowing some of what was eating at Mal's thoughts, but her approach certainly wasn't pretty or nice. The corner of his mouth twitched before he came up with a suitable answer.

"Yes. Death ain't pretty. You learn to live with it, but it never gets any easier. 'Specially not one of your crew."

She seemed satisfied, unless she was reading the track his thoughts had taken. They weren't the most optimistic at the moment, despite having finally got _Serenity_ off that miserable rock.

"Where are we heading, sir?" Zoë asked, having arrived on the bridge.

"Not so many places we can go anymore," Mal replied quietly. "How's Wash?"

"He's…going. Sleeping now."

"Good, good. Shiny," Mal nodded. "Seemed well enough and all?"

"As can be expected, sir." Her face was completely blank with no emotion whatsoever. It was a look well honed during the war. Mal often found he used it without thinking.

"I think we're heading to Boros. Might still be people liken us there…should get the help we need."

"And the Feds?"

"Won't do nothin' much worse than what's already got done to us. I don't see much trouble on this trip, but I've been known to be wrong before," he answered dryly.

"How long, sir?"

"A day or two. Hopefully not so much more."

"You're afraid something's going to happen…that if it weren't for our bad luck, we wouldn't have any luck at all. We're going to be okay." River's voice was soft and tentative, as though she weren't quite sure herself. Mal didn't reply. He didn't think he could.

* * *

Wash was all but draped tastefully around his wife's shoulders. His walking was still uncoordinated, but for having been bedridden and drugged for two consecutive days, it wasn't hard to imagine why. It was an optimistic sign, if nothing else. 

Mal helped Zoë ease the pilot onto the Mule before hopping into the driver's seat. Zoë strapped in beside Wash, while River got up front. Simon was still raving.

"Do you even remember the last time you took her on a milk run?"

"Yes, Simon, I believe I do. We all came out alive, and exceptin' Jayne's rather unfortunate leg we all got out safe, breathin', and very uneaten. That girl saved our lives, Simon, 'n after this whole big fiasco, I'da thought you'd start to learn just who is in charge of this here boat." Mal's mouth was twisted into a sadistic, Captain grin, but there was no trace of humour in his coldly mocking eyes.

"Just because we're not as wanted anymore does not mean we should go…marauding about in the streets!"

"I can have Jayne confine you to your bunk iffin you got a problem with these arrangements." An eyebrow quirked upward to further drive home his "I really don't give a damn what you say" expression.

"Captain," Kaylee called. "Don't be mean, he just…cares about his sister a lil, is all."

"I suspect no power in the 'verse can keep Simon from carin' about his sister, now, can it?" Mal asked pointedly.

"Is the captain really fightin' on my behalf? I feel just all…fuzzy inside." Wash grinned. The pilot, whether he knew it or not, knew very well how to diffuse tense situations, but when Simon glanced at Wash, he still wilted at the edges.

"Just don't let her get hurt, _please_?"

Mal rolled his eyes, raising his right hand as an after thought. "I, Malcolm Reynolds, do solemnly swear your sister ain't gonna get so much as a scratch on her pretty little head, 'n if she does stub a toe, I understand you're gonna cut my head off and feed it to all manner of unpleasin' sorts a creatures." Before Simon could answer, Mal stepped on the gas and sent the hovercraft zooming out the open cargo bay doors.

Simon sighed as the Mule zipped away, unlike Jayne, who eyed Simon interestedly. "Think he meant what he said 'bout confinin' ya?"

Simon gave him a patented glare, before stalking to the infirmary. Jayne chuckled, making his own way to the dining area while Kaylee watched in distaste. She followed Simon to the back of the bay, calling for him to wait up. He didn't stop, but he did turn to look at her.

"Simon, don't think nothin' of the captain. He just…"

"He expects too much from her," Simon said stubbornly.

"Oh I don't think so. River got tons better after the whole Miranda thing," Kaylee smiled reassuringly. "I think she's growin' up. She's gonna be fine now that that's out of her."

"I've been taking care of her for so long…I've never known her to be able to take care of herself."

"The Captain's with her, 'n Zoë. If anyone knows anythin' about protectin', it's the Captain," she said brightly.

"I just wish my contributions were enough passage for both of us," he sighed.

"Your contributions are more'n enough. The captain just wants everyone to share the load if they're gonna share the wealth."

"No, my contributions are clearly not enough. The captain doesn't trust me and for good reason," Simon said fiercely. He sped up, bypassing the infirmary and heading instead for his bunk.

"Simon, wait—!"

The doctor didn't answer. The captain didn't respect him, wouldn't ever respect him, and now Simon had given him further reason not to trust him. Kaylee's concern was entirely too stifling right then, and he couldn't deal with it. He shut the door to his quarters on her frantic cries before slumping down on the bed. First the shepherd's death and now Wash's arm…River having to pay their passage with petty thievery…When had it gotten so wrong, so fast?

**Chinese:**

_BUN dahn_: fool

_tah-sur SUO-yo DEE-yure duh biao-tze duh MAH_: whores in Hell

**Honour roll: pokey-** Wash will live as long as it is in my power to make him do so. **Sulkyn the Powerless-** And so it is continued. **Merrie- **You didn't know I was insane? I must not have been making it obvious enough. Sorry about that. **RMMF- **It's going, something I'm very proud of. **Sage1899- **If you're still looking for employment, we can talk. ; ) Couldn't bare to let Wash just got quiet into that good night.


	3. The Book of Mal II

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13 for now, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: An AU fic that starts right at the end of the BDM. _Serenity_ and her crew are learning to cope, and still flying, but it's getting harder all the time.

**Disclaimer**: Joss is boss and owns these sad, unfortunate people

**Author's Notes: **Not so much time to think about getting it beta'd by another living soul that understands Firefly, but it has been read by three different people with knowledgeable grammar skills. Honour Roll coming.

**The Book of Mal**

_part 2_

"Well, if the injury is as you say, you're a very lucky man to even be alive, Mr. Washburne," the doctor said mildly. "Very nearly pierced your heart or a lung it did. And the surgery is very neat. Who ever did this knew what he was doing."

"Aye, that he does," Mal answered quietly.

"He's the best," River smiled. "My brother can fix anyone."

"Your brother, hm? Well, there's no sign of infection, that's positive. Clean stitching. Well done. Why did you need a consult?"

"The conditions that was done under weren't the best, by any means. The doc who done it felt bad about it."

"He shouldn't. He did a fine job. If he felt it was necessary, there was probably reason."

"Can we…please…stop eyeing me like a piece of meat?" Wash asked shortly. Zoë squeezed his hand tighter.

"Sorry, Mr. Washburne, just making sure I haven't missed anything. I don't think so, though. You look fine, under the circumstances."

"In whose opinion?" he muttered.

"Ssh, baby, doctor's only doing what's right," Zoë whispered.

"_Nah mei guan-shee_."

"Wash," Mal warned.

"Sorry, sir, I get a bit snippy when I'm a side show."

"You much done, doctor?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. I can prescribe some pain killers if you need them, but you're physically healthy."

"_Wo you yi tyau ke bwo_!" Wash snapped.

"It's not so very hard to live with these days, aside from the fact that it's fairly uncommon now. Seriousy, Mr. Washburne, you're very nearly perfect."

Wash slid off the exam table and walked out of the room. Zoë jogged after him. Mal massaged his forehead, before copping a glance at the bemused doctor. "I think that'll be all."

**

* * *

**The ride back to _Serenity_ was uneventful, with no Reavers or Alliance chasing them for a change. Not that they couldn't have used an attack to their advantage, with the crushing silence and tension that seemed to mute the hum of the Mule. Anything was better than that.

Mal guided the craft into the bay easily, hopping out almost as soon as it came to a complete stop. He walked around to help River out, in case she'd planned to stay put and not get out. Mal wasn't going to let anyone in the bay for a good long time. Zoë and Wash needed to be alone.

River skipped. He didn't know why or how, but she did, her bare feet hardly touching the metal floor. The girl was a mystery at the best of times, and Mal found it was no problem simply to lead her to her room with the orders to stay until he came back for her. The same remedy wasn't going to work for him; he wasn't going to spend a minute in his quarters that he didn't have to. He took the stairwell to the shuttles at two or three steps at a time.

Mal stood outside for a time, wondering if he really needed _her_ council at the moment. Eventually, even he couldn't hide the obvious answer anymore, and walked in without knocking. Inara was going to be mad with his bold entrance; she rarely wasn't when he came in uninvited. Which was whenever he felt like.

She was sitting at the console examining potential clients when he stomped in on her turf, so she accorded him proper respect by not turning around to greet him formally. She did acknowledge his presence though. "You know my policy, Mal. Will there ever be a day you'll abide by it?"

"Not likely," Mal admitted without humour. He fell onto the couch bonelessly, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. The heaviness of the flop finally gave Inara enough reason to turn away from the computer to give him a measuring look he wasn't up to meeting.

"How is Wash?" she asked softly.

"Takin' it kinda hard," he answered.

"At least he's alive. Simon did the best he could."

"Weren't good enough. Not accordin' to Wash."

"You can't blame him."

"Not at all. Nor can I blame Simon. But one of my crew is at a disadvantage and none too happy about it. I can't do nothin' about it, but I can't think what to do with him."

"You can't do anything. Not like that," Inara frowned. (_She looks sweet when she frowns. Concerned,_ he thought. His mind always wandered when he was trying to have a conversation with Inara.)

"No. I can't."

"It's kept you up at night."

"Not much hasn't."

Inara returned to the screen one last time so that she could shut it down and give him her full attention. It tended to be easier to talk to a person face to face. She got out of the revolving chair before joining him on the seat. (_Wash would be very dead now, if he hadn't gotten up right then. Except it doesn't feel like he's doing much living anymore_, his mind whispered plainly.)

The companion folded her hands in her lap, rearranging herself to better face Mal on the couch. "Listen, what you're doing is admirable, but it's going to hurt you badly before too long. You can't beat yourself up over this. From what I hear, you probably saved his life."

"Not so much. He ain't got a life no more."

"Zoë doesn't think so."

"Wash ain't gonna convince that easy." (_Simon neither. Simon's still beatin' hisself up over it._)

"He'll come around. He's naturally resilient. He just has to live with it for awhile and get used to the idea."

"'N I suppose when a Companion gets all uglied up, it ain't the end of her career? Companions just gotta up 'n live with bein' a civilian fer awhile till they bounce back dandy as ever? Inara, he needed that arm to fly. Unlike a Companion, us poor folk don't get compensation for wrongs done to us. You get uglied or crippled out here, ain't no one to forgive us nor give us a chance to live like normal folk. Absolution don't exist in our line a work 'n we gotta keep movin'."

"You're not thinking about leaving Wash and Zoë on a planet by themselves." She'd said the comment calmly and easily, as though stating a fact, not an order. When Inara used that voice, there wasn't any other choice but to obey.

"No, I ain't, but I can't let Wash sit 'n vegetate. Bad for him, bad for my crew."

"Give him time, Mal."

"Time's somethin' we ain't got much of."

"Look, Mal, I was busy before you came in here like you so very often do. If you don't want to talk to me or if you're going to keep dismissing me, you should leave now."

Mal didn't react; he was used to the sharp, bitter comments just as she was used to his gruffness. They were playing their roles to perfection, just as they'd come to expect of each other. Except, normally, Mal would have allowed himself to be chased out by then. "Can't leave yet. Zoë 'n Wash are in the bay."

Inara looked annoyed, but she couldn't order him out now. It didn't stop her from showing her obvious displeasure with the arrangements. What had once started as a civil discussion had turned, once again, into the type of warfare where subtle insults and angry glances were flung like grenades. "And just how long are you going to let him wallow in self pity?"

"Long as he wants, so long's he don't hurt no one." Mal was closing up and shielding himself from her attacks, unable to stop himself. Inara already had, he was just following suit. It didn't make it any more pleasant, though.

"And what about his mental health?"

"Well, he's someone too, last I checked." Mal stood up to stretch, but found himself pacing the small space instead. If he hadn't been moving around restlessly in her shuttle, he would have been doing it on the bridge or somewhere else. He just couldn't keep still.

"How long has it been?"

He glanced at her. The set stance, the evaluating eyes. (_Too long. Entirely too long_. _Why'd you have to leave? Don't you know I was sorry?_) "Ten minutes, give or take.."

"Would you have me go talk to them?"

"No." His last round of pacing brought him close to the door. Mal had to turn on his heel before he could start afresh; he forcibly told himself to stop, take the door handle, open it. He had to sneak a last look at Inara before leaving, not being able to bring himself to meet her gaze completely. He wasn't much for goodbyes.

The bay was empty; the Mule parked right where he'd left it. He couldn't hear anyone in close proximity, though he assumed that Wash and Zoë were in their bunk, Kaylee in the engine room, Simon in his bunk and Jayne wherever he felt like bein' at the moment. River might have been where he left her, but there was no guarantee. He checked anyway, in case she had decided to obey him for once.

Mal tapped on the door gently, "You're shiny, little albatross. You can come out."

"The air is sad." River's answer was muffled through the plastic.

"I know. Not quite so much right now, if you'd like to come back out."

"Everyone is sad. It leaks into the air, stains the walls. Dripping down like rain, the sorrow."

Mal sighed, trying very hard not to snap out the first retort that came to mind. Of course, River probably knew what it was, but there was a certain formality in not speaking it aloud, as though they could pretend it didn't really exist. He had tired of that game with Inara though, and wasn't in the mood to do it again with River. "Do what you want, we'll be leaving soon."

He left, trying to head for higher ground and maybe escape the profound sense of discomfort. The fact that the untouchable Wash had gotten himself injured…that meant that nobody was safe. Maybe they weren't such big damn heroes at all, just really disgustingly lucky. The fact Wash should have died only served to pound that little fact in that much more effectively. They were just barely flying now…how much longer would that last?

He shook himself. It wasn't the time to start sinking into a massive pit of depression. The bridge was ahead; they'd be lifting off by the end of the day, assuming nothing broke between then and now. He crossed the bridge and keyed the intercom; after all, he might as well get all the unhappy captain duties out of the way in one fell swoop.

"This is the captain requesting the presence of the doc on the bridge right now. Don't be mistakin' this for a kindly request." He'd used his best reasonable voice: polite, quiet, non-hostile. Maybe Simon wouldn't be on the defense. Maybe the Alliance would get all fuzzy and welcome them with open arms.

Mal didn't have to wait long for Simon to drag himself onto the bridge. Mal wasn't quite sure who was taking everything worse; all of _Serenity _seemed to be in the grips of a competition to see who could be the more depressing. Simon may have been winning; he didn't even take a seat when Mal gestured at the copilot's chair. The doctor leaned against the locker in the corner and seemingly curled into himself. Mal did sink into Wash's fleece covered chair and waited for the other man to start. He didn't think he was wrong about Simon needing to vent his feelings.

"I didn't mean to do it. I…there was nothing there for me to reattach with the tools I had!" The doctor had come out on the defense as Mal had predicted.

"No one's accusin' you otherwise," he said quietly, watching the twilight sky melt into a blue and lavender dusk. Mal content himself to let Simon have all the leeway he needed to purge his mind by enjoying the scenery.

"Mal, I know I could have done it, I just…"

"You panicked."

Simon gulped audibly. "Y-yes. I…panicked."

"What I find so terribly interestin', Simon, ain't so much that you panicked as I'm wonderin' how you got so far in your educationin' without learnin' to deal under pressure. I saw you gimme my ear back when it got unattached. What I hear Kaylee speak, you stuck a girl's leg back on 'n the kid went 'n named her hamster after your own self." Mal swiveled around in the seat and leaned forward to fix Simon with a penetrating gaze. "Did you really not have all the tools you needed for the job?" he asked firmly.

"I didn't even have light to see by, Mal…" Simon said pitifully. "I never would have gotten th-the veins and arteries attached, I didn't have—"

"You would have been a shiny battle surgeon, but that weren't what we were lookin' for when we hired you. If you need more gear, you come to me. Don't be makin' a habit of this."

Simon seemed to shrink even smaller, if that was possible. "It's not a habit. I never want anyone to go through that, especially Wash. It usually never happens anymore. Not on a Core planet."

"And you know very well we ain't so privileged as them. We make do with what we've got. We keep flyin'. Is there a way we can make it better, even if it ain't perfect?"

Simon shook his head. "Too expensive. We'd need an _extremely_ lucrative heist even to think about getting a prosthetic. The illegal limbs are all shoddy anyway, bound to break and you'd have to buy a new one that costs an equal amount. You can tell the legal ones, they're all tagged now. If you go through a metal detector, you're sunk if you've got an unlicensed one. The Alliance…It wouldn't be worth it to go through any channel but them. It's the only way that it won't blow up in his face a year from now."

"Well…why don't we go through the Alliance then?"

Simon's head snapped up. "Are you insane?"

"On occasion, but this time I'm serious. We've got some honourable folk on our ship. I'm sure they could find a limb decent-like. It's only a matter of breakin' the news gently…"

* * *

"Are you insane?" Inara frowned. She looked concerned again. "It's a horrible plan, they're not just going to give me a fake arm." 

"Of course they ain't, I ain't stupid. You're takin' Wash with you as your husband."

"Wha—? You know that's never going to work! What would Zoë say about it?"

"Dunno, haven't asked her yet. She can't go 'cause the gorram Fed's'd likely ident 'er. You're the only one with clout enough to get him in 'n out. Need your support first to back me up, make it sound feasiblelike. So far, I got Simon behind me and I need a bit more help than that. Wash needs a bit more help than that."

"What does Wash think?" she scoffed.

"He don't. Not yet. I haven't told nobody but you 'n Simon."

"And you thought I was just going to agree blindly." She looked bored as she said it, as though Mal were wasting her time. It wasn't completely inaccurate if he couldn't convince her.

"No. Actually, I thought you were going to yell at me for coming in uninvited, call me crazy, and then agree with me. So far, so good," Mal grinned cheesily. Inara's expression turned sour.

"I'll say nothing until I get Zoë and Wash's opinion on the matter."

"Mhmm. That was my second guess," Mal sighed. "I'm sure Kaylee'd make a good wife for Wash, if he were into it. Just figured you'd want a chance to show how respectable Companions are, all them fancy clothes 'n jewelry 'n smelly stuff—"

"Incense, Mal," she butted in.

"You just don't worry about…keep yourself to your own council, we'll take care of our own." He got up swiftly, not giving her another chance for rebuttal.

"Wha—? I don't even get a chance to consider?"

"You did; you made it quite plain there's stipulations I ain't in the mood to abide by. I'll go get Kaylee. Don't worry yourself none." Mal stopped at the door and gave Inara a shrug. "Weren't your fault, I ain't gonna expect you to fix it."

"Mal…" she sighed. "You're sure this is foolproof?"

"Is anything foolproof?" he asked mildly.

"Mal!"

"I trust it is. We've got Simon's expertise. He'll lead us true."

"And what's the plan exactly?"

He had her. He just had to try not to trip on the finish line "Well…"

* * *

"Wash and Inara will get off as soon as we land on Osiris and catch a transport to the St. Lucia Hospital. Once there, they'll walk through the front door and confirm the date for attachment. The date will have been set up in advance, by us on _Serenity_, two days before we hit atmo. The papers will be all drawn up, all they have to do is confirm it, pay, get fixed up, leave. Easy. It's fool proof, liken the job on Ariel shoulda gone," Mal recited calmly. 

Zoë and Wash both blinked, but it was Wash who spoke first. "Are you—"

"Okay, y'know what, I am captain here and I am gettin' just a little sick of folk tellin' me I am off my nut. It ain't a bad plan, and I've got the doc's and 'Nara's consent."

"And of course Dr. Tam's opinion is so very trustworthy," Wash muttered.

"Do you want an arm again, or not?" Mal asked scathingly.

"Husband! Sir," Zoë reprimanded.

"And there you go making it my fault first and foremost, _again_!" Wash snapped at Zoë. He rounded on the captain next. "Maybe I don't _want_ to be a cyborg, Mal! Zoë, you're probably better off with someone who can do the whole 'have and to hold thing,' why don't you just take Mal to your bed? I hear it's important in a successful marriage!" Wash had almost gotten up from his seat to leave, had Mal not risen first. It may not have been fair, using both arms to lever himself up, but Mal wasn't going to cater to Wash's injured confidence. He tugged Wash upright, holding onto the smaller man's shirt collar.

"Listen up. I can't have Zoë and I don't want her that way. She's my gunman, pure and simple, and I ain't givin' that up to stroke your ego. You've been walkin' out on me and mine for the past week. I don't care if you get this operation or not, but you will not sit and mope on my boat, _dong ma_? I am tired of your sass, and I aim to stop it now. It's your choice as to take the better deal, but I ain't gonna force you either way. I hope you've been comin' up with alternative jobs though; my crew shares its work. You'd do well to tell me which course of action you're plannin' to take."

Wash was reddening, looking to be on the verge of a blow out. Mal would take it; he'd experienced worse from Inara. At least Wash wouldn't slap him. Zoë placed a hand on her captain's arm, gently pushing him away from her husband. Mal complied, stepping away, but staying close enough to watch and intervene if necessary. Zoë guided Wash backwards until his back hit the wall, and proceeded to kiss him with about as much passion as Mal cared not to have to see. He turned away discretely before it got any worse.

"Husband," she breathed. "I didn't marry you because I expected a pretty, egotistical man. You could be a head in a jar, and while I might be sad, you'd still be mine to have, hold, and love. You don't need to have two real arms for me to love you."

Wash was silent for a moment, either catching his breath or trying to gather up the words to say something proper. "If I'm not egotistical, can I still be pretty?"

Mal heard another kiss be exchanged and fought the urge to groan. Zoë laughed, "I'd've called you handsome, my own self."

"I can do handsome," Wash admitted. Another kiss. Mal cleared his throat.

"So. Do we have a verdict?"

Another pause, a long one this time. Mal almost asked a second time, before he heard Wash whisper, "I'll do it."

**Chinese:**

_Nah mei guan-shee.-_Well in that case, nevermind.

_Wo you yi tyau ke bwo_.-I have one arm.

**Honour Roll: Katie 05: **Thanks muchly, hope this installment isn't so bad either. **RMMF: **I have to admit, River's a fun character to write, if a bit daunting at first. I've had some fun with her. **pokey: **Simon is just a bundle of angst, but I intend to slap him around a bit if he doesn't shape up. Wash, shall be with us a long time yet. **Creamy Mimi:** BDM stands for Big Damn Movie, a reference to the show. Fond nicknames make me smile so I try to use them as often as possible. **Lynx Ryder: **I doubt there is such a thing as too much Firefly just yet, so I think you're good. This fic is fun. **LadyPup: **I can't really imagine any pairing but Kaylee/Simon so they shall be an item. Just not till much, much later. I've got a plan –wink- **Sage1899: **Sorry I didn't get to you this time around –blush- but I intend to try for the next time around. I've got everything all set up so check your inbox if you're still interested. **Mayorst: **No worries, it's all good. Wash is too cool to die.


	4. The Book of Mal III

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13 for now, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: An AU fic that starts right at the end of the BDM. _Serenity_ and her crew are learning to cope, and still flying, but it's getting harder all the time.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Perhaps the idea of a futuristic prosthetic arm which really isn't much because I don't know how to make it. Oh well.

**Author's Notes: **Some major revampage of earlier chapters to keep everything up to snuff. I promise not to fix any more earlier chapters for a whole section. And sorry about the lateness of this one too. Honour Roll coming.

**The Book of Mal**

_part 3_

_Serenity_ swooped skillfully through the air and landed on the assigned pad with ease. Little River was getting better at piloting all the time, no doubt due to some of the knowledge picked up from Wash or Mal. The captain left the bridge in time to see Zoë hand Wash off to Inara. He descended the stairs slowly, carefully, so as not to terribly disturb anyone.

Inara had been waiting in the bay when Wash shuffled out of the infirmary with Zoë at his side. He looked grey, even in his loud Hawaiian shirt. Mal watched Inara tuck Wash's armless side close to her own.

"We won't be taking the Mule?" Inara appealed to him.

He shook his head. "Transport ain't too far from here."

"Why didn't we take my shuttle in and save you from the possibility of getting caught by Alliance?" she asked.

"We like the sights," Mal smiled wearily. She didn't try to argue with him. She just hugged Wash tighter and began to walk with him out of the bay.

"Don't fall for her feminine wiles, honey," Zoë called, trying one last time to cheer him up.

"But she's a real live Companion, I can't pass that up." Wash sent a weak smile back over his shoulder before continuing with Inara. To the eye that wasn't looking hard, it just looked like they were very friendly lovers, not that one was hiding the other's lack of an appendage.

"Mal, I ain't innerested in just sittin' around, waitin' fer them to come back," Jayne muttered. He had emerged from the depths of _Serenity_ not to see the two off, but to try to find something to do.

"We ain't just sittin'," Mal answered. "They're gettin' looked after; we're tryin' to rebuild our funds."

"What?" Jayne blinked.

"We've got a job. Found a client wants classified cargo sent to Persephone. We'll pick up it up while Wash 'n Inara are out. Drop it off when they get back. Nothin' too hard or too boring. We're meeting the buyers now. Suit up, we're taking the Mule."

**

* * *

**Mal, Zoë, and Jayne left to get the cargo under the clear specifications that Kaylee was in charge and Simon was not to let his sister leave the ship. Kaylee looked less than thrilled about the appointment to leadership, but only to people who knew how to read below her cheerful exterior. Simon didn't have much to say either way, not being entirely thrilled with anything this past week. It didn't stop the three from leaving, but it sure made them want to hurry through their errand a bit quicker.

"They're going to come back happy. Jingling their pockets, everything perfect. Things are smiling. Then, find out their crates aren't crates but cages full of darkness and anger and disease. They'll be unhappy. Divided. Factions. Everyone against one and things will be compromised. This is bad," River murmured. She was on the catwalk, lying on her stomach above the cargo bay. Simon glanced up and motioned for her to come back down.

"River, please try not to be up there. You could fall, and then where would I be?"

"Right where I left you. If I leave, you will be lost, but you will be exactly where you are meant to be."

"River, do you want to play a game?" Kaylee asked softly. Simon was so high strung; he didn't need his sister to aggravate the condition.

"Games are arbitrary. Keep children at bay with pretty baubles and mindless activities. Keep them quiet before you snap. I will play."

"C'mon, River, let's leave your brother alone," Kaylee motioned. River pushed herself upright, like a cat, even going as far as stretching out her spine. She did a handstand on the railing, before jumping off and landing lightly on the metal floor twenty feet below. Her bare feet didn't make much of a noise at all.

Simon looked pained at the sight, but said nothing.

"You can't lose me that easily," River smiled at her brother. "I am a stone."

Simon tried hard not to wince at the memory: his sister bathed in too-white light murmuring and crying, wishing God would make her a stone. If he could have, he would have made it so that Miranda had never existed. "_Meimei_, please play with Kaylee for a bit. I have some things I have to work out."

"I know it hurts you, but you have to be strong. Flexible." River she smiled bravely and hugged her forlorn brother. "_Serenity_ will fly as long as there is love. I love you, big brother." With that, she scampered away, tugging on Kaylee's hand.

Simon felt his chest ache. River, the smartest and the weakest of them all had to be strong for everyone, even her brother. The Alliance had stolen her childhood and now that innocence was just beginning to show through the surface again. That sort of bliss was much needed, but shouldn't have been necessary. Not from a seventeen year-old girl who only a week ago had held the horrifying secrets of a dead planet. They were asking too much of her. Simon was asking too much of her.

He was asking too much of everybody.

Simon knew he was better off leaving _Serenity_, but River would never go for it. She loved her home, her family. She would want him to stay, which was more than Simon wanted to give. His heart was a black hole that everything rocketed towards and got stopped, trapped. It hurt, collecting all that emotional debris. It wasn't healthy, his doctor rationale said. He had to leave for a while and forget the potential consequences. River would be okay, Simon just had to clear his head for a bit. Maybe she wouldn't even know that he had left.

But his sister always knew.

* * *

"This is my husband, Bennet Arliss and my name is Lena. We scheduled an appointment two days ago," Inara said calmly. She knew her lines well, having rehearsed them in her shuttle before they landed on Osiris. Wash wasn't much help, but she didn't hold him to it. 

"Mhmm…Arliss….Arliss, Bennet, prosthetic attachment?" the receptionist asked, watching the screen.

"Yes. We're here on schedule. How long will we have to wait?"

"A few minutes for the doctors to prep the OR. The procedure won't take long at all. The receptionist glanced up to give a reassuring smile. Wash—Bennet—tensed even further.

"_Ta shi xian ran di ma_? _Ta kan wei zao pin ma_?" he mumbled. (Is it obvious? Does it look fake?)

"No, not at all. Technology is very proficient at making things look natural these days," she said firmly.

"G-good. I'm glad. Happy even."

"Come, husband, let's sit and wait," Inara said gently. She touched his elbow, guiding him away from the desk, as he was seemingly unable to do it himself. They sat together in a remote corner of the room, and even that didn't make Wash feel any more at ease. Several minutes of uncomfortable silence, and Inara could no longer take it.

"Are you going to be alright?" she whispered.

"You know what? I don't know. I have no idea. I don't even really want this operation," Wash muttered.

"Then why are you going through with it?" Inara was puzzled. She'd been under the impression that Wash had agreed with everything. Though looking back, Mal had been known to lie before.

"Because. Because it'll be ungrateful if we waste all this money for no reason. Because I need it to fly. Because I don't want to be anywhere but _Serenity_. Because I love my wife." The more reasons he came up with, the smaller his voice got. "I can't not have this operation. It's not an option."

"W-Ben…anything is an option. You can still say no."

"No I can't. Not now. We're here and…I'm gonna do it."

"Bennet Arliss?" the nurse called. Only Inara heard Wash gulp.

"Don't do this if you don't want to," she said urgently.

"I have to." He got up, finally ready for whatever lay beyond. Inara followed him, intent of trying to talk him out of it. She'd never seen such raw fear and discomfort in Wash before and it was unsettling.

"Bennet—"

"I've got it…Lena…I promise," Wash answered. His step was lengthening, his shoulders snapping upright. Resilient Wash at his best.

"Would you like to stay with your husband before he is put under?" the nurse asked politely of Inara.

"I don't know—" Inara shook her head.

"Sure she does," Wash answered for her. He looked back over his shoulder, gesturing with his head. Inara wasn't quite sure if it was a clever ploy at looking like husband and wife, or if he really did want her there. She couldn't ask him yet, and neither did she think she ever would. Some things didn't want clarification.

It didn't take long for Wash to disrobe when they arrived at the receiving room. The nurse had left so that Wash wouldn't have to feel awkward undressing, though even that gesture didn't help much. He still looked uncomfortable wearing nothing but the hospital gown, and Inara didn't think it was entirely from the pending procedure. Something about wearing hospital gowns was almost more indecent than the initial nakedness, and the sleeve hanging limply by Wash's side was more telling than they both cared for.

"It doesn't hurt, you know. Not really," Wash offered. His voice barely crossed the two feet of air between them. "It's just…I miss it."

"You have every right to miss it," Inara said firmly.

"But I can't afford to. That's the problem. So…in a while…it'll be done and I can fly again. I won't have to miss it." He glanced at the stump that had once been an arm. Inara could only guess what it was like, but she imagined it must be akin to a lost tooth—constantly reminded of its absence, though you could pretend that it still existed for a little while anyway. Then you try to chew a piece of food and it fails you. You want to shake a hand or hug your spouse and you can see yourself doing it, but it simply isn't happening. Wash was lying; it must still have hurt him more than he cared to say.

"Wash…"

"You aren't going to talk me out of this, Inara. I'm committed. I'm like a guy who's…committed. I'm a big, strong man. I got tortured by Niska; I can live through anything, now." His smile was sad.

"You shouldn't be trying to cheer me up," Inara admitted.

"It's not for you," Wash sighed.

"Why don't you just say no then?"

"Have you not been listening these past few minutes?" His expression was small, hurt.

"Then what's so wrong?"

Wash didn't answer immediately. Inara doubted that he even knew. "Mal saved me twice now. I…I'm pretty sure I would not be around talking to you if he hadn't told me to follow him. He kept me awake while Niska fried us into crispy fritters. Now he's giving me an arm. I…I feel so damn needy. I mean, my wife can beat me up; isn't that a bad thing?"

"Mr. Arliss, are you ready?" The nurse was back, but she looked serene, able to wait if they needed another minute.

Wash nodded slightly. "I'm ready."

"Follow me, please." She waved them out towards the hallway, Inara following Wash closely, but slightly behind him. He was rigid and proud, no longer afraid of hiding the empty sleeve. Inara wasn't sure whether she should have pitied him, or felt honoured to watch him be brave. His wife would have been proud. Inara merely tried not to let her throat close up painfully.

"Onto the table, sir, thank you." They were in a relatively open room with plain white walls and fine white lights clustered about the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a whitewashed table adourned with off-white restraints. _Probably so they can see them easier and get to them if they need to._ Inara thought. She immediately banished the morbid thought though, as Wash looked almost piteously at the table, wondering how he was going to hop up. Inara motioned for him to turn around and helped him by supporting his torso and back. He looked grateful, if a bit embarrassed.

"The anaesthesia works quickly. You will be under in a few seconds," a doctor piped up. He had the mask ready and everything.

Wash looked at Inara. "Don't tell 'em about my crazy secret life, alright?"

She shook her head. "I won't."

"Promise?"

Inara tried to smile, and failed miserably. "Promise."

"All right Mr. Arliss, you won't feel a thing. You'll be up and about in two hours flat. Count back from ten, please…"

As Wash's eyes fluttered closed, Inara felt her heart break.

* * *

"You are a part of this world? Aren't you?" the businessman asked snidely. 

"No, not really, no. We're just respectable tradesmen, nothing more," Mal answered. The proper dialect was hell in his mouth, but he managed. It was more acceptable than the stiff and unflattering clothes he, Zoë, and Jayne were sporting.

"And you aren't in trouble with the law?"

"No, sir."

The man gave them all a long look. "All right then. Follow me, I'll take you to the cargo. It'll take a few trips, even on your craft."

"We'll manage, sir."

"You aren't curious of the goods at all?" the man asked.

"No, sir. It isn't our business to ask questions."

"Good man. Lord Shuffleton on Persephone will be your contact. You'll land at dock 20, unload the crates and receive the rest of your payment then. Half now, half upon arrival." A sack of credits was produced and dropped into Mal's hand.

"Thank you, sir. We work quick. Ly." Mal gave himself a mental smack on the head for the small slip up.

"I trust you do. I needn't stress the importance of getting the cargo to its intended place, correct?"

"No, sir."

"Good man."

**

* * *

**The last of the three crates were settled on _Serenity_ when Wash and Inara returned two hours later. Zoë jogged over to meet them, much to Wash's embarrassment. His new, darker mood was defined by the new, darker, long-sleeved jacket that covered up the bright shirt beneath. Nobody was sure who had bought it—Wash or Inara—but nobody felt right in commenting on it immediately.

"Husband, you're okay?" Zoë asked.

"Well…yeah. Fine even. Shiny," he smiled shyly.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were still drugged," she smirked.

"Uh…maybe. Sure, why not? There's a distinct possibility."

"How'd everything go?" Mal whispered to Inara.

"Well enough. The papers were all right, credentials fine. He was in and out very quickly. They barely looked at him," she said softly. On the one hand, it was a good thing that they hadn't really noticed him, but on the other, it sure put the fine, young, educated doctors in a bad light. Inara's voice reflected that.

"So he's got a…" Mal wriggled his shoulder to clarify what he wouldn't say.

"Yes. It's functioning and in a matter of days, he should be used to it. That's what the doctor said anyway."

"Good. He should be able to pilot in a week or so."

"And that was your brilliant plan to save Wash from himself."

"Indeed it was. I even had the little light bulb and everythin'."

"Mal, I was under the impression that Wash wanted to do the procedure." Inara turned to him, her eyebrows drawn close in a scowl.

"He did. I gave him two options, he picked that one."

"You bullied him into it."

"Relative term. I did no bullying."

"He was afraid, Mal."

"Who in their right mind wouldn't be? Them hospitals is crawlin' with Alliance."

"He was afraid of the procedure, and don't change the subject."

"I wasn't!" Mal glanced at Inara, his own face reflecting great puzzlement. He'd thought everything had been shiny when they left, what'd gone wrong? Inara, however, seemed to take pity on him and changed the subject herself.

"How are we going to pay this off, Mal?"

"Well…" Mal tried to roll with the conversation, "I got some thrillin' crime lined up. We're headin' to Persephone next. Don't much matter where we go after that."

"I thought you swore off Persephone," she asked.

"Nah, just your high-strung fancy parties 'n stuff. Too rough for poor little me."

"I'm going to assume that you needed the Mule to acquire the cargo we are taking to Persephone in our high class heist, and that this scandal is completely without complications," she said dryly.

"There's a distinct possibility."

Before Inara could throw another barb his way, Zoë's voice carried throughout the bay. "Well, husband, am I going to have to wait until tonight to see it or are you going to take pity on your poor wife and show me now?"

"Well, y'know under the circumstances I'd have to turn you down because I am….modest! Yes, I am modest and I shouldn't be showing it to many people outside my bunk," Wash babbled. He stumbled against Zoë's side, his footsteps extremely uneven. Jayne snickered from his perch on one of the boxes, polishing a gun with a corner of his shirt.

"I dunno, I think I'd rather like to see it," the mercenary remarked slyly. There was a rough silence accompanied by plenty of confused blinking until Jayne cocked his head. "What? I ain't a girl. I got man parts."

"A point on which we are all keenly aware," Mal rolled his eyes.

"Very keenly," Wash added.

"That said, we're all going to Persephone. We'll be there in a day or two. Soon as we warm up, we're ditchin' atmo. Where's the lil albatross?" Mal asked.

"What, Captain, I get all prettied up for you and now you won't let me fly?" Wash frowned.

"You're still drugged, Wash, I ain't lettin' you crash my ship."

Wash snorted. Zoë hugged him tight with a grin on her face. "I think we're going to be in our bunk."

"Y'know what, I think I like that suggestion better," Wash nodded happily. Mal smiled tightly as his second-in-command led his pilot up to the cabins.

"I'm gonna find River and we're gonna leave soon. The rest of you can all…go…do whatever it is you do on long, tirin' space voyages."

**Chinese:**

_Ta shi xian ran di ma_? _Ta kan wei zao pin ma_: Is it obvious? Does it look fake?

**Honour Roll: the prodigal chicken: **It might be a good investment to start a "Save the Wash" Foundation. Poor guy needs a hug. **Stormkpr:** Wash may live, but it's questionable as to whether or not he's thanking me right now. **Culf: **Updated. **Lynx Ryder: **You know…this fic writes itself. I wish some other unmentionable fics would do the same, don't you? –innocent grin- **Merrie: **I would do more of my other fics first, but this one's almost done! Well, not posted, but almost completely written. That's a first, you know. **Disappearing1: **Pretzels is good. Writing believable characters is gooder. Thanks for the nudge, by the by.


	5. The Book of Mal IV

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13 for now, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: An AU fic that starts right at the end of the BDM. _Serenity_ and her crew are learning to cope, and still flying, but it's getting harder all the time.

**Disclaimer**: You'd think I own these poor folk because of the way I treat them (and will treat them) but I really don't. The idea of ownership is naught but a grand illusion.

**Author's Notes: **Bit fast with the update, that's something isn't it? And we learn something fun in this section.

**The Book of Mal**

_part 4_

"Cap'n?" Kaylee ventured. She had been sitting quietly in one of the chairs until she couldn't bear it any longer. "Cap'n, have you seen Simon?"

Mal frowned, turning in his seat. "You lost him?"

"Well…this afternoon. Five hours ago. He ain't in the infirmary."

"Maybe he got lost in one of the nooks or an air duct."

"Simon don't know _Serenity_ that well, I don't think he coulda gotten in one a the nooks," Kaylee pointed out. Her normally cheerful face looked depressed and anxious.

"You're saying we left him on Osiris," Mal said quietly. She nodded silently.

"He is on Osiris, just were he needs to be," River spoke up. She glanced away from the vid screen in the control panel with a small smile. "My brother needs to go home and find himself. He missed the boat, but we'll get him back."

Mal had to fight not to drop his jaw and point stupidly. "Y—…you do realize your brother is part of our crew and we don't leave our crew behind, right?"

"I understand, Captain Daddy, but it's for his own good. He needs to find himself."

Kaylee jumped up and left without a word. Mal wasn't far from being right on her heels. "Kaylee, what are you doing?"

"I'm goin' back fer Simon," she said coldly. She didn't stop or turn around. There was no reasoning with her like this, but it wasn't in Mal's nature to listen to reason.

"Kaylee, maybe you don't understand who's in charge here, but—"

"No, Captain, I'm going to save Simon and you can't stop me."

"Kaylee!"

She sped up to a run, dashing along the scaffolding above the cargo bay and towards the free shuttle opposite Inara's. She hadd bolted and locked the door before Mal could catch up.

"_Ai ya, hwai luh_!" Mal cursed, trying to lever open the door. He could hear the humming of the shuttle within sliding out the side of _Serenity_'s hull. It would be swallowed up in the black within minutes unless he turned _Serenity_ around and tried to catch her. Then they would lose the deal and be hounded by all manner of Feds. There wouldn't be any way to win this battle; Mal bolted back to the bridge to order River to turn around.

"River, you gotta turn back now 'n fetch Kaylee 'n Simon. Back to Osiris."

"No." The word was soft, but the force behind it was unmistakable. She was looking back at the vid screen and alternately at the starscape floating lazily by outside and not truly paying attention to Mal's demands.

"River—"

"No, Captain Daddy. They need time. This is good for them, you'll see. We'll go to Persephone, they will learn and grow. We'll come back for them when they're ready."

"River, don't you be takin' this for a—"

The pistol was aimed at his head before he could get the next word out, despite River's apparent lack of concentration. His pistol. Mal patted uselessly at the empty holster and swallowed quietly, easing his hands into the air to show his peace. His only guess was that she must have taken it before he'd gone tearing after Kaylee.

"We're going to Persephone," River said. She turned around in the seat finally, watching him out of wide eyes. "They need this. You need this. _Serenity_."

"_Wuh duh ma huh ta duh fung-kwong duh wai-shung doh_... Are you gonna do this every time you got the notion we gotta do things your own way? Because gettin' held at gunpoint ain't gonna make anyone put you on their fuzzy wuzzy list."

"You won't listen to reason. Reason comes in sight, in belief that I would hurt you. You quiet, shut down, listen."

"Well, yes, I will agree that I am listening, but that ain't gonna change the fact we ain't goin' to Persephone until we get Kaylee and Simon back."

"Yes we will." River got up, slowly, gracefully. She stalked towards Mal with the pistol held straight ahead, still pointed at his skull. She slid by the captain, depositing the gun in his holster again before continuing down the corridor, presumably to her quarters.

Mal had to wait a few moments to check and regulate his heartbeat and breathing before he could successfully lower his hands. He strode to the intercom and keyed in the button for Wash and Zoë's room.

"All right, travelers, if you could kindly make your way to the bridge, it'd be much appreciated," he said tightly.

A few moments of silence later, there was a crackling answer. "Everything all right, sir?"

"Not so much, so if you could make haste, that'd be nice too."

He turned the com off to wait for Wash and Zoë. Mal still wasn't keen on letting Wash fly yet, but the pilot could still be useful until his time came. It wasn't long before they turned up, looking more than slightly disheveled.

"Yes, sir?" Zoë asked.

"Was that the shuttle I heard?" Wash frowned.

"Yes, yes it was, Wash. We left Simon on Osiris. Kaylee just went to go fetch him, 'cept by the time she does, we'll be too far out for her to get back safely. Lil River had a mind for us to keep on goin' to Persephone. I have a haunch we can't be stoppin' this notion or somethin' bad's gonna happen. Wash, I'd like you to examine the controls, see if you find anythin' interestin'."

Wash looked apprehensive about the request at first, before nodding wordlessly and sliding beneath the console. Almost immediately, he made a disapproving noise.

"Yep, captain. We're doomed."

"Wash, we can't be doomed. Can't afford to be doomed."

"Well, sir, little River learned how to ship-jack. Can't change course without a very good mechanic and a brilliant pilot. I think you've only got one of the two, sir. We're making the rendezvous whether we like it or not."

Mal felt something twitch inside him. The only crewmember that could be quite so carefree at a time like this was Wash, and it wasn't exactly appreciated at the moment. It was good he was recovering spirit like that, but not so nice given the situation. "All right. You work on this, see how far from Persephone we are by the time you finish. We'll decide then. Get to work."

"Yes, sir, overlord!"

"Try not to sound too excited about this, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, sir, of course, sir."

"Wash."

"What?"

"Work."

**Chinese:**

_Ai ya, hwai luh_: Shit on my head!

_Wuh duh ma huh ta duh fung-kwong duh wai-shung doh: _Holy mother of god and all her wacky Nephews

**Honour Roll: Jas-TheMaddTexan- **Will do –salute- **Lynx Ryder: **It really is at an end! This is the first time I've ever had a long story actually…well…have an ending. Does that say something about my character, do you think? Um…don't answer that, because that might mean Survivor will never get done. –blush- **General Subwoofer: **Pushing Wash to his limits always has its merits I must admit. Does psychological scarring count?


	6. The Book of Jayne I

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13 for now, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: AU fic. Wash is alive and almost well, _Serenity_'s got more cargo, but there's something missing from the "Happily ever after" equation: Simon got left behind. What happens now?

**Disclaimer**: I don't even own the shirt on my back, let alone these charries. Except the random Alliance officers. I might have joint custody of them.

**Author's Notes: **It's the beginning of a new chapter featuring everybody's favourite mercenary. Honour roll coming.

**The Book of JAYNE**

_part 1_

_

* * *

_

Mal wasn't looking very pleased when he blew through the dining room. Jayne glanced up curiously before returning to his routine weapons maintenance.

"We humped again?" he asked, hocking spit on the blade.

"Ain't in the mood, Jayne; go play with somethin' ain't dangerous," he muttered. Jayne shook his head. He had already jumped to the conclusion that it had to be "that ruttin' girl," because it always was. Jayne couldn't count the number of times he'd tried to get her and her stuck up brother off their ship.

"She ain't nothin' but trouble, Mal. Don't know when yer gonna listen to me, but I ain't gonna keep sayin' it. Yer gonna forget, wake up some mornin', find yer guts floppin' out where they ain't supposed to."

"Jayne! Did you mishear me? I said this ain't the time," Mal snapped.

Jayne shrugged and spat on the blade again to get it extra shiny. Mal left to pursue his terribly noble pursuits, which was just fine by Jayne. It wasn't his fault that River was loopy as a…loopy thing.

Jayne shook it off and carefully replaced the blade in its sheath before carefully disassembling Laverne: a handy little semi-automatic with a lot of heart. Laverne sure wasn't Vera (nothing could compare with her), but she packed a good deal of pain when she wanted to. Jayne had taken her off of a guy who had tried to argue that the payment they'd previously settled on wasn't fair. He'd agreed soon enough.

Jayne smiled at the memory. There wasn't a power in the 'verse that could keep Jayne from his rightful pay.

* * *

To say that Simon was nervous was only a bit of an understatement. He'd known, confirmed, even, that _Serenity_ had been landed on that particular pad. Now, on his fifth circuit of the yard, he still hadn't located the Firefly or any of its crew. It brought severe feelings of déjà vu, reminding him quite vividly of the last time he had been left behind. This time, the only consolation was that he was among civilized people with modern comforts, but Simon couldn't think of an excuse good enough for their leaving. He could only suspect that it was simple negligence. The doctor wasn't sure how to feel; should he have been angry at being forgotten or sad for not being remembered? Why hadn't River told the crew to wait? Why had she left him?

The questions were overwhelming him, causing the sunny blue sky to darken dangerously and sounds to start garbling and warp his hearing. He took a big breath and tried to focus, allowing his mind to attach itself to whatever question was easiest to answer or could afford the greatest amount of comfort in the shortest amount of time. What he found was immediately classified as belonging to the former group.

They had left him behind because he wasn't a part of the crew and never would be.

Simon banished the thought as quickly as it had come. Sure, it was easy to think such moping and depressing thoughts when there were comforting pillars of friends around. They acted as scapegoats and provided excellent props for feelings of extreme alienation. When the props were taken away, but the hostility remained, it could be reasonably concluded what the real cause of the feelings were. Nobody wanted to confront themselves.

Simon took another deep draught of air and tried to take in his surroundings for a second time. Any sort of distraction would do, but this simple job offered the most immediate comfort. What he found was that the buildings and the skylines and the people were disturbingly familiar, and not just because he'd been strolling through the area for the past several hours. He had been to this place before, a very long time ago. The knowledge hit him all at once with a force that almost sent him reeling into another state of hyperventilation.

He was on Osiris, in Capital City. Home. _Ai ya_…

Simon had taken great pains to make sure that nobody in the 'verse would find him or his sister only to wind up in the one place where someone was sure to recognize him. There was surely no conceivable way that the day could get much worse. When he finally noticed he was spiraling down towards dark thoughts again, he gave himself a mental slap.

First thing before he started exploring, Simon would have to get some clothes that didn't advertise high-class society. Then, he would find a way to contact _Serenity_ to see if they wouldn't come back for him. Maybe Mal would be feeling charitable. Simon just had to make sure that he didn't get caught between then and now…

* * *

"_Wuh ai nee bing chee nah ai boo hway shr bai_, but for God's sake, why won't you _work_?" Mal hissed through his teeth. "Wash, situation, here!"

"Mal, we're almost there!" Wash relayed back.

"Hurry up!" Things were sparking everywhere and the engine room was beginning to rise to an uncomfortably high temperature.

"Just a sec…got it! I got it! Throw the main lever!"

Mal did as he was told, trying desperately to ignore the burns inflicted by hot metal in his hands. When he was finally able to throw the lever—after his hands were wrapped securely in his shirt sleeves—the whirring and buzzing and sparking began to ease off by degrees.

"Think we're shiny, Captain…" Wash said.

"Think so?" Mal answered, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a bare forearm.

"Know so. Controls are responding again. Anything explode in there?"

"Don't think so. Haven't died."

"Good, good, that's good. I think you're safe to come up."

Mal was too tired to argue or ask about the residual sparking. They had done a very rough patch job where River's hotwiring was concerned, but Serenity was no longer frozen in space. Wash could navigate again. However, the time they had taken to undo River's damage had brought them farther away from Osiris than Mal had counted on. They weren't very far from Persephone; there was no reason they couldn't make the stop. The captain trudged up to the bridge, ignoring Jayne's immediate queries.

While Mal had been running interference between the controls and the engine, Zoë had stolen his seat in the copilot's chair, so he sunk into the one behind it. "Well?"

"We're about two hours out, Captain."

He groaned. "We can't chase 'em now."

"You sure, sir?" Zoë asked.

"No. But we're too close now. Knowin' Kaylee, she'll keep Simon safe."

"Damn right, she will," Jayne muttered. He had followed Mal up from the dining room to find out what all the fuss was about. "We ain't goin' back now. We gotta get paid."

"Jayne, not your call."

"Weren't presumin' it was, Mal."

"Then try not to act like it."

A thin, high beeping filled the cabin. Wash swiveled in his seat to check the instruments and shook his head. "No, no, no, _choo fay wuh suh luh_!"

"Wash?"

"Alliance!"

Mal's eyes widened. "But we ain't done nothin' yet!"

"Don't need to do anythin' fer Alliance to bite our heads off," Jayne said darkly. He had had a bad feeling about this job ever since Mal had taken it. They hadn't done business with the Alliance since Simon had come on board and as far as Jayne was concerned, it was perhaps the only positive contribution the doctor had made to their crew. Money was money, sure, but it didn't mean that Jayne had to like where it came from.

"Evasive manoeuvers?" Wash asked.

"Damn right we need 'vasive manoeuvers," Jayne snarled.

"No," Mal sighed. "We ain't got nothin' to hide."

"Mal, the cargo! Or did you forget that, already?"

"Jayne, if I need to warn you one more time, it's you that's gonna greet them's come on my boat."

"It was my understandin' we tried that before. We all got captured, interrogated, 'n almost _killed_."

"Jayne, quiet."

Static crackled from the control panel, causing Wash to flinch visibly. The video was shaky and saturated to the point of unfamiliarity, but the audio was clear enough. "Firefly-class transport, do you copy?"

Wash glanced at Mal in silent question. Mal leaned over the pilot's shoulder to try and decipher the image on the little screen. Whatever doubts Mal had about the other boat being friendly evaporated in much the same way the picture was trying to. Mal recognized the uniform more than anything; the officer was wearing a funny-looking, Alliance-issued cap.

"What seems to be the problem?" Mal asked.

"It's our right to ask you what sort of cargo you are transporting to Persephone via this route."

"Boxes, officer, nothing more."

"What sort of boxes, Captain?"

"Big ones," he answered crisply. He believed they were innocent, but he didn't feel it meant that he had to give them an inch.

"Don't be cute. What sort of cargo is it?"

"Don't rightfully know. Just an honest transport ship lookin' to make a few credits on Alliance orders."

"Alliance orders? What are the numbers on these boxes then, Captain?"

Mal steeled himself, remembering not to break the falsely sweet smile. "Don't actually know off the top of my head, sir."

"Well I suggest you get to finding that information, now, Captain, before we board your ship." The image got fuzzier and Mal assumed the officer was smirking.

"Thanks, officer, I'll get right on that." Mal ended the wave and sighed heavily. He eyed his assembled crew tiredly.

"We're humped."

**Chinese:**

_Wuh ai nee bing chee nah ai boo hway shr bai_: I love you and that love shall not fail.

_choo fay wuh suh luh!_: Over my dead body!

**Honour Roll: Lynx Ryder: **Well, they're very busy people and can't check who's where are any given moment. Simon's a big boy now. And um…_cough_ still no Survivor. _blush _**Logan13: **Thanks!


	7. The Book of Jayne II

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: AU fic. Wash is alive and almost well, _Serenity_'s got more cargo, but there's something missing from the "Happily ever after" equation: Simon got left behind. What happens now?

**Disclaimer**: Could I possibly have ownership of these luckless souls the way I've been treating them? They belong to Joss Whedon and that's that.

**Author's Notes: **I haven't forgotten, just taken a very lax view on updating.

**The Book of JAYNE**

_part 2

* * *

_

"_We're humped."_

If ever there were truer words spoken, Jayne couldn't think of them at the moment. However, he was the adamant sort when it came to pay off. It happened and he was happy, or it didn't and things got broken.

"Well, what now, wise leader?" he asked sarcastically. "Ain't got a plan ta get us outta this here mess a trouble we're in? Cause I remember thinkin', 'Gee, why don't we try us some _'vasive manouevers_.' Now we're stuck here with Feds breathin' down our necks—"

"Jayne, go check the boxes. Read the numbers at me," Mal said finally.

"Huh?" Jayne grunted.

"Go check the boxes for numbers, Jayne. _Dong ma_?"

"Yer still gonna play nice with those _hwoon dahns_?"

"Jayne!" Mal snapped.

The mercenary didn't reply, having learned how to choose his battles a long time ago. He spun on his heel and stalked down to the cargo bay. Jayne would be obedient this time—if only so that he could live a little while longer—but if Mal got everyone killed, he would most certainly have something to answer for. Maybe Jayne would make him die a long and painful death. Maybe there'd be grenades involved. The possibility of carnage made Jayne giddy with excitement.

The initial inspection of the packaging on the box revealed nothing special. Jayne, on a spurt of cleverness, wedged a bit of scrap metal beneath it and heaved. The angle was awkward, but with some creative bending, Jayne was able to see the shadow of large, block numbering. He got a little more shoulder into it and manhandled the box into an even greater slant. The ident code read 034-FY23. The mercenary—after carefully letting the box resettle on the floor—wandered over to the com system installed in the corner of the bay. He pressed the button for the bridge.

"Mal, first box says oh-three-four dash eff-why-two-three."

There was a pause on the line. Jayne imagined Mal was having to beat back another barrage of Fed questions. When the captain finally did crackle over the system, he asked, "You sure about that, Jayne?"

"Sure as my own eyes that saw it; what the _guay_ you askin' me that for?"

"Jayne!" Mal barked.

"Well, yeah, Mal, those is the numbers! I ain't gonna lie about shit like that!"

"Go check another box."

Jayne snarled angrily before turning around and ramming the makeshift lever under another damned heavy box. He gulped another breath of air before heaving with all his might and forcing the box into the air. Another breath and a small prayer later, he leaned over again to examine the next batch of numbers: 059-KZ78. Knowing that the captain was some sort of closet sadist, he checked the last box as well, because Mal would ask him to out of pure spite. Mal had probably set the boxes up that way, with all the numbers on the bottom of the crates. The last one said 065-MU09. He relayed both of the codes to Mal without too much fussing or groaning.

"Em-you-oh-nine?"

"_Yeah_, Mal! How many more times you wanna be askin' this? The answer ain't gonna be changing, no time soon, Mal!"

The muttered curse was barely audible over the intercom, but Jayne heard it. "_Shun-SHENG duh gao-WAHN_ , I do not need to be havin' none of this. Jayne! Get back up on the bridge." The last bit had been shouted, meant for listening ears.

Jayne gave an aggravated sigh. In short, the Alliance had better not have been mucking up their job, and poking their asses in where it wasn't wanted. They had all had enough of the, and Jayne didn't know why in Mal didn't just try to outrun them. His best guess was that there was something that Mal was hiding. Jayne wouldn't have put it past the wily captain.

"Yes, yer 'ighness, I'm here at yer beck 'n call," Jayne grumbled, finally rejoining the gathering upstairs. The crew all looked exceedingly grim, as though someone had died. "What happened, we get tagged?"

"No, Jayne, we have a perfectly wonderful Alliance escort to Persephone," Mal answered stiffly.

"We're goin' ta jail?" Jayne snapped, metaphorical hackles immediately up in fighting position. He had _known_ what would happen if they had gotten friendly with the Feds, warned them even! And yet, nobody ever listened to Jayne, cause Mal always knew what was best for everyone.

"No. Just an escort to make sure we get the cargo there safely," Zoë answered in lieu of Mal. The captain looked as though every breath was painful, and considering that he had probably just led them into a trap, Jayne wouldn't be at all surprised if it were true. "As far as we know, the Alliance doesn't plan on apprehending us. The codes you read were legit, probably saved us."

"So…we aint goin' ta jail?"

"Not yet."

"'N what's gonna happen when we land, again? I'm a little fuzzy on the details. We get ourselves caught 'n killed cause the Feds don't know why we got ourselves official Alliance goods?" he muttered.

As so often happened when one dealt with unnecessary stress, Zoë seemed to be developing a twitch in her left eye; Jayne suspected it had to do with the shoddy leadership. Luckily, Mal seemed to regain enough of his rationale to answer for her. "Our man on Osiris vouched for us. We're cleared to be takin' this cargo to Persephone, no harm to come to us. We deliver the cargo, we go back to Osiris for Simon and Kaylee, 'n then we are goin' somewhere else for a good long while. We don't need this kind of mess from nobody."

"Yeah, well, I don't trust 'em. Feds is been known ta lie before."

"Yeah, well, you ain't got much of a choice," Mal retorted.

Jayne scowled. "No need ta be rude."

The air had the same consistency as the protein they lived on. With the Alliance cruiser hovering menacingly out the port window, it wasn't hard to understand why. Even Wash found it hard to speak under the circumstances.

"Uh…sir? What isn't quite so valuable that the Alliance wouldn't just come over here and pick it up, but still requires an escort?"

"I really don't know, Wash, maybe a shipment of pompous hats. I don't know, and I don't care. We're getting the job done."

"Mal, I think the little man's got a point," Jayne remarked.

"Let's try not to give the Feds a reason to be truly pissed off with us, _dong ma_? We don't need to know what's in them fancy crates."

"I do," Jayne muttered quietly.

Mal turned towards Jayne, a frown darkening his gaze. "What'd you say?"

Jayne balked. The captain was never often truly incensed, but when he was, there was trouble. Luckily for Jayne, the perfect answer came to him. It had worked before, under different conditions; he didn't know why it wouldn't work now. He gulped.

"I'll be in my bunk."

Silence ensued, followed by a collective groan. It was as though the tension was flushed out of the room in a great wave. There were shaking heads and Mal even rubbed his forehead in a slow and methodical movement, but nobody had leapt up and started shooting.

"Okay. Jayne. Go play with your rain stick," the captain sighed.

Jayne didn't need to be told twice. He was loping down the hallway towards the catwalk over the bay when he heard Mal's voice chasing him over the intercom.

"And stay away from the boxes, Jayne. Cap'n's orders."

"Aw-! Mal, ruttin' _hwoon dahn_, you ain't tellin' me what's best fer me when it comes to the gorram Feds!" Jayne growled. He didn't slow down, and he didn't acknowledge the order. He nearly tripped down the stairs to the cavernous bay, but he caught himself in time. He didn't think he would have a lot of time for the operation, assuming that Mal was just finding out now what he planned to do.

The boxes were still where they'd been unceremoniously dropped; and the scrap metal that had formerly been a lever was still wedged beneath the last box he'd inspected. Jayne kicked it out from underneath the wooden crate, grabbed it up, and began to attack the cover.

"Jayne, get away from the box, _now_," Mal's voice came coldly from the catwalk above.

"I almost got it, Mal," Jayne hissed between his teeth. He gave a last, mighty heave, and the cover of the box popped off like a cork. Much like a nesting doll, the crate contained another box, though the second one looked much more advanced than the first. It had a control pad with a series of knobs and screens filled with Mandarin writing. There was only one button of substance, and it was glowing a malignant red. Jayne wanted to push it more than anything in his life.

"Jayne!" The sound of a gun cocking didn't quite sway the mercenary into listening, but it sure made him pause. He gave the captain a dirty look.

"Don't tell me you ain't innerested in findin' out what's so damn valu'ble."

"I got about all the curiosity I can stand at the moment, but step away from the gorram box before I shoot you somewhere painful." Mal's pistol didn't waver at all as he spoke.

"Gettin' shot's painful no matter where it is," Jayne snarled.

"My point exactly. Now _move_."

Jayne's jaw clenched. That glowing red button was _aching_ to be punched. He knew that Mal wouldn't approve of its being pushed and violating the sacred trust that came with a smuggler's cargo, but Mal didn't approve of anything. The big question was whether the contents of the box were worth getting shot over. Thankfully, Jayne's answer was just as thought invoking as the question: _Dahng rahn_. Jayne rammed his palm against the button as Mal's gun fired. Jayne was vaguely aware as the bullet embedded itself into his left shoulder and tore through the meat before exiting out the other side. The shot did hurt, but it didn't matter. The light in the button had turned green and smoke was pouring forth out of the cracks that had opened under the cover of the inner box.

Jayne grinned triumphantly: he had beaten Mal and it felt damned good. Then the gun collided with his skull and he couldn't gloat about anything anymore.

* * *

The small, beetle-like shuttle was completely overshadowed by the Bumblebee and Hornet class ships beside her. It inspired a feeling of pity, but not embarrassment. Kaylee was never one to suffer from embarrassment; unless, of course, she realized that she had left her boyfriend alone on a strange planet without even realizing that he had left the ship. The emotion left her feeling hot, flushed and very disappointed in herself. Maybe she didn't deserve to love Simon if she couldn't even take care of him.

The disparaging thoughts didn't stop her from at least attempting to search for him. Kaylee wasn't entirely sure where or how to start, but she didn't think that walking around could hurt. Maybe she could even ask people that looked kind enough. Kaylee knew to draw the line at Feds though, and even running into one would be problematic. But she knew that she was on Osiris, and she had heard plenty of stories from Simon about his past; there had to be some places that she could remember from his stories. She would start there first. So she mentally kept a tab on where she'd landed the shuttle and started her tour of the dockyard.

* * *

**Chinese:**

_Shun-SHENG duh gao-WAHN- _ Holy testicle Tuesday

_Dahng ran-_ Of course

**Honour Roll: Lynx Ryder: **Well you see…this one's been written for a long time and Survivor's smashed headlong into a wall and is now kind of twitching and spasming on the pavement. –blush- That's how I update this one semi-regularly.


	8. The Book of Jayne III

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: AU fic. Wash is alive and almost well, _Serenity_'s got more cargo, but there's something missing from the "Happily ever after" equation: Simon got left behind. What happens now?

**Disclaimer**: I own two new F Paul Wilson books and a cell phone. That's really pretty much it. Definitely not _Firefly_, _Serenity_, or the people/charries in 'em.

**Author's Notes: **Please review. I like reviews. They make me happy. I promise I'll respond if you do. –nod-

**The Book of JAYNE**

_part 3_

A shudder wracked his body. Simon felt his skin itching with the need to be free, but his upbringing and pride forced him to remain calm and rational. But they were so cruel! He had no idea how Wash could stand them. Simon nervously patted the horrifically loud blue and yellow button-down shirt and tried to look like a tourist.

The shirt did aid in the illusion, though Simon had no idea why standing out would make him hide in better. The soft khaki pants and loafers were at least comfortable, if not something he would normally wear. He could even understand the sunglasses and hat because they hid his face—though the hat not quite so much, for he took pride in his well-kempt hair. It was the damned shirt that didn't make any sense, but it was all that the store had stocked besides "I went to Osiris and all I got was this stupid T-shirt" shirts. Simon couldn't even fathom what sort of a moon-brained monster could conceive of such an idiotic piece of apparel, so he suffered the slightly dressier—or at least collared—Hawaiian shirt. It would be proudly passed on to Serenity's pilot without a smidgeon of guilt.

Once he could ignore the injustice of it all, and Simon swallowed his pride to examine himself in the mirror, he could honestly admit that he didn't recognize himself. The disguise had even passed the "walking around in public" test, because no one had stopped to slap him on the back yet. He thought he might be able to stand looking gaudy and underdressed for a day or two. Maybe. With showers.

He contemplated going into a former favorite haunt of his while he had been a practicing surgeon, but quickly squashed the idea. Because Simon was now so very unrecognizable as a well-to-do member of Capital City, the people inside would have alternately shunned and scrutinized him: an attention that he didn't care for. And if he entered the same haunt as the self-assured Dr. Simon Tam, he would have been arrested as a fugitive. It was a very good thing that he knew of a few lenient places where he could get some decent food. There were credits in his pocket, and there were worse places to get stuck on than Osiris. He could make the best of this.

Snuggled in amongst the tall sky rises and tucked away from the busy street was The Hub. It was a respectable place for lower class citizens, and a place that none of Simon's old buddies would touch with a ten-foot pole. Because of that, it wasn't entirely necessary for Simon to keep the hat and sunglasses on, but he did for the sake of argument. The chances of meeting someone was slim, but Simon could recall a few instances where he had wandered in with an entourage of rowdy and exuberant medical students. When he seated himself, he did remove the hat out of courtesy.

"Welcome to The Hub, what can I get you, sir?" a waitress asked.

"The special, please," Simon asked softly. He smiled a bit, allowing the sunglasses to give him an air of blankness.

"Sure. Would you like anything to drink?"

"Water. Just water."

"Right away, sir."

Simon, for the first time in awhile, allowed himself to relax. He could remember a time when he'd been at ease in Capital City, but a lot of things had changed since then. River, for one; his parents, for another. In fact, the one thing that hadn't changed was the city itself: Capital City was exactly as he remembered it. It was that nearly overwhelming feeling of nostalgia that aided the slow release of his anxiety as Simon waited on his food. It was almost…dare he say, pleasant?

The food, when it came, was beef. He almost grinned childishly and laughed aloud, but he stubbornly refused to taste it until after the waitress had left. He hadn't had proper food—Beef!—in ages. Sure, he had sampled protein in every conceivable shape and colour in the 'verse, but real meat was a rare commodity on a ship like Serenity. A nice steak well done…it made Simon giddy. Maybe getting left on Osiris wasn't so bad after all…

A light hand alighted on Simon's shoulder and squeezed it tentatively. "Are you Simon Tam?"

His eyes widened. "Uh…no, no I'm not-"

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure it looked like you when you walked in here—"

Oh no, please, no, no, no! He didn't want to speak, he knew every word he spoke was giving him away more thoroughly and this was going to end very, very badly. Simon took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "I'm not who you're looking for. I'm here on vacation from—" He thought quickly. "—Londinum, and—"

"But they have better fashion than that in Londinum. Could you please turn around and let me see you?"

Simon winced as the person squeezed his shoulder again. "I haven't paid."

"Don't worry about that, Mr. Tam."

He'd run out of ideas. Short of turning around and punching whoever it was in the jaw, he was sunk. Judging by the hold on his shoulder and the voice, it would have been very rude to try and punch a girl and would have earned him more trouble than it was worth. He stood up slowly, so as to seem as important and untouchable as possible, and turned around.

He stopped breathing.

**"Di I-…wha wazzinit?"** Jayne slurred. His eye cracked open tentatively, but the effort it had taken to do that seemed to cause a small avalanche of pain to roll from a small point on his forehead to engulf his entire skull. "_Choum'niao_, why'z m'eadhurt s'gormmuch?" he groaned.

"Zoë knocked you out," a feminine voice answered wryly. "Try not to move, it'll only hurt worse."

"Uh?"

Inara shook her head. "You disobeyed Mal, so he shot you. When you didn't fall over, Zoë hit you in the head with her gun. You're probably in a bit of pain."

"Welllllll, yeah," he groaned.

"Then don't move. I can't fix you as well as Simon can. You don't want to pop your stitches and I don't want to have to sew you up again—" Jayne ignored her tirade and sat up anyway. He didn't stay upright for long; an animal cry issued from his throat and all but collapsed back into the chair. That last effort, having been more than twice what it had taken to just open his eyes, had left his whole body weak, shaky, and soaked in sweat. "Why ain't I drugged?" he gasped out.

"Because we didn't know how hard Zoë hit you, and whether or not you were concussed. Are you nauseous or dizzy?" Inara asked calmly.

"Yeah, from th'gorram pain!"

"Jayne, I can't give you anything until I know you aren't going to die from it."

"Fine, no I ain't," he snapped. His head and shoulder still hurt like hell, but he was beginning to be able to keep track of his words and not slur so badly. He was also starting to remember why he got knocked out. "What 'appened? What wazzin th'box?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Inara remarked. Her voice was flat, distasteful.

"Sure there is, I opened it."

"You gave Mal enough to worry about, Jayne."

"What wazzinit?" he snapped. Again, pain saturated his head, neck, and shoulder, and this time he almost passed out from the new intensity of achiness. Thankfully, it didn't lessen the threatening nature of the question, and Inara looked taken aback.

"I'm not telling you unless you promise not to do anything more than let me give you meds after you find out," Inara said sharply.

"Guess I'll find out my own self," Jayne grunted. Now that he knew what he was up against, he took care to get up slowly and avoid any unnecessarily quick movements.

"Jayne!"

"No, 'nara, I'm findin' out what I opened 'n got shot fer." He forced eyes to narrow, blanking the world down to a small circle directly in front of him. The less he paid attention to, the less it seemed to hurt. Jayne heaved himself off the seat with his good arm, his bad one tucked close to his chest. When his eyes stopped crossing, Jayne thought he vaguely recognized the cool blues of the infirmary. If he was right, there would definitely be some form of some promising pain medicines hidden in a drawer somewhere. Jayne took the knowledge and metaphorically ran with it; he shuffled over to the bank of drawers that contained all the needles and pills and salves he could ever hope for.

The words on the first needle were blurry, not that Jayne had time to read them anyway. If he didn't act quickly, he really would pass out from the pain. It looked enough like the stuff that the doctor always injected them with when they were injured that Jayne found he didn't much care. He tore it out of the sterile plastic wrapping and stabbed the point into his bicep. Considering the now roaring pain from the shot in his shoulder, he barely felt the prick at all. After pushing the plunger and yanking the needle out again, he had to stop and catch his breath against the counter. His eyes slipped closed.

The first thing he was truly aware of was sound. Originally, all he could hear was a dull static overwhelmed by fuzz with a side smattering of human voices. Now, he was pretty sure he could make out Inara's worried voice griping and yelling at him. She also noticed a slight pressure on his left arm, but not much more than that. It was when he was nearly fell to the floor that he realized she must having been yanking his arm, trying to get him to follow her. The second thing he realized was the fact that his arm was definitely numb. Even his headache seemed to be defogging. He tentatively opened his eyes again and heaved a sigh of relief.

Jayne stubbornly didn't wait to feel completely cured before he shrugged Inara off and stumbled into the cargo bay. The box he had successfully opened was still there and waiting for him. It was no longer smoking, but Jayne didn't mind. The pyrotechnics were probably just for show, anyway, so what was a little fog when it came to knowing what was in the boxes? He picked his pace up to a rolling jog and almost wound up having to catch himself on the edge of the box. There was an uncomfortable pressure in his shoulder, but it no longer mattered. There was nothing but Jayne Cobb and the contents of his box.

Of course, when he saw it was empty, it sure felt nice to have something to pound angrily on.

"_Yeh-soo, ta ma duh_...where'd he put it?" Jayne hissed. He growled angrily, turning abruptly on his heel and stomping towards the far end of the bay again. He didn't even care about the other two boxes anymore, just the one that he himself had opened. He took the stairs, intending to have a heart-to-fist chat with Mal. Given his current state of injury, blood loss and drug intoxication, the climb took a bit longer than usual. By the time he got up to the catwalk so that he could get to the main hallway of Serenity, he couldn't help but feel a little off balance.

The mercenary stumbled up to the bridge, having to drag himself up the last few stairs with nothing but his iron will to keep him going and a hard grip on the railing to keep him from falling over. Unfortunately, his luck seemed to have run out on all fronts: he cursed long and hard when he realized that there wasn't a soul tending the ship. The only explanation that Jayne could think of was that everyone was hiding from him. They were having fun at his expense. The only evidence to the contrary consisted of the cruiser still hanging ominously in the black like a dangerous child's toy. If it had been a joke, Jayne would have thought that Mal had had sense enough to put the cargo back where it came from and have done with it. Unless…unless Mal had hid it from Jayne where the rest of Serenity's cargo usually went…

Jayne didn't have the heart to lurch down a full flight of stairs again. He needed sustenance: Something to take the edge off the painkillers that may or may not have been painkillers. The important thing was that he needed a clear head; and he was quite a ways away from anything vaguely resembling a caboose, let alone an entire train of thought. Jayne would wait the fog out in the mess, and then check the bay again in half an hour. The only flaw in the plan was the set of stairs that were the only way off the bridge. The mercenary grit his teeth, and clutched the railing in a white-knuckled fist.

It didn't keep him from falling flat on his face, but it did save Jayne from an even higher fall. It took a moment for him to regain his footing and recover enough to stagger down the long hallway. Jayne wasn't sure—it could have been the repressed pain that was playing horrible tricks on his mind—but he quite thought that there were voices coming from the open door of the dining area. It would be several missteps and a brave catch against the frame of the airlock before Jayne would find out that there were an awful lot of people in the room. There were more, in fact, than he could remember as being passengers on Serenity. He could see Wash and Zoë from his awkward vantage point, as well as Mal, but there were three others whom he didn't know that were also seated at the table. They even looked to be clothed in garments that he had previously seen on Mal and Wash and Inara. To say that Jayne was confused was an understatement.

"Uh, Mal…who're these _go tsao de gao yang jong duh goo yang_?" the mercenary asked darkly. His left hand was unconsciously snaking towards the gun at his hip, his other hand having been employed to keeping him upright. Nevertheless, he was ready to draw at two moments' notice—even if the new people would have had their guns out already if they'd really intended harm. Jayne could only surmise that they might not have counted on being surprised; he couldn't even tell if they had guns with their hands hidden under the table.

"These…? These _goo yangs_? Jayne, you should be ashamed. Them is the folk you tried to very hard to save. You should apologize; ain't proper to draw on people just got themselves so rudely woke up. Weren't even their fault."

"Mal?" Jayne's eyes grew wide and hurt. "What the hell—? These ain't our crew."

"No, they ain't. Them's come from the box you pried open. This is Alex, Frances 'n Caleb. You saved 'em from a right hard life."

"What?" His bewilderment was enough to effectively startle him away from any and all thoughts of shooting anyone. Jayne knew things weren't right. There was clearly some vital clue that he'd missed, judging by the excessive smugness in Mal's expression. However, Jayne was having a very bad day, and he was not in the mood to play games. "Mal, yer outta yer head."

"Not at all. Not in the slight. Alex—" Mal bent his head at a rough man who had seen far too much work in his lifetime. Alex looked older and far more weathered than any prune Jayne had ever seen. "—'n his wife 'n son were sent to Persephone as slaves. Them's grateful ta you, want nothin' more'n ta say thanks."

The boy—Caleb—glanced up, meeting Jayne's eyes with a sad, grey-eyed little stare. It was unsettling on every conceivable level, forcing the mercenary to turn away first. His skin was effectively crawling and he felt an overpowering need to fidget.

"So…uh…they was in the box?" he mumbled, staring very intently at the floor.

"They was in the box. What, you suddenly ain't so interested in the can a worms you opened up, brung down on our heads?"

Jayne's head jerked upwards to glare at Mal angrily, though he did begin to regret the movement when the room began spinning in an unnatural manner. He hadn't fallen over though—and he stubbornly refused to—but he was not about to relinquish his hold on the doorframe. "No, Mal, you brung it down!" he snapped. "I didn't want this job. Too many if's 'n stuff in it. Weren't none of us wanted this job just so's the little man could fly again!"

"Jayne, _BEE-jway_." Mal's eyes were dark, like chips of amethyst. "You ain't mentionin' that again, _dong ma_? We're doin' the job for more than Wash—"

"Mal, you don't need to fight my battles for me," the pilot said quietly. "I know why we're doing the job. Don't protect me." He still looked bitter, but it was no longer the irrational anger it had been in the beginning. Wash didn't normally allow Jayne's commentary to bother him, having gotten plenty of practice before. However, Jayne hadn't completely spoken his peace.

"Just cause he can't duck a ruttin' Reaver spike don't mean—"

"Jayne, you're walkin' away from this table now," Mal said coldly. The captain was notorious for not raising his voice, but it was quite obvious when he was mad. Mal was very, very angry, judging by the fierce clenching of his fists and the slight tremble of overstrained muscles. On the outside, though, he still appeared to be calm and very cool. Jayne himself was on the verge of backing down, but the injustices of being shot at, beaten up and ignored were overwhelming what little existed of his rational mind. His lips thinned as his own eyes got hard.

"Mal, I am tired a walkin' away cuz you said so. I wanna know what you plan on doin' with these slave folk—"

The chair slid violently away from the table and Wash was on Jayne before the mercenary could finish his sentence. The smaller man had Jayne by the throat and drove him back into the dining area and against the wall. With his trachea being methodically squeezed by Wash's new arm, Jayne found that the only thing he could concentrate on was the collective gasp from the box people.

"It's all about you, isn't it, Jayne? Well, some of us are tired of your selfishness. Sometimes, _BUN tyen-shung duh ee-DWAY-RO_, other people come first," Wash hissed.

"It ain't always about me!" Jayne gasped out. He managed to wrestle one of Wash's arms away, but his weak shoulder was beginning to give out. He couldn't hold Wash's attack forever and the blackness beginning to press in on his vision was a very good indication of how long he was going to last.

"Wash, let him go," Mal said softly.

"Sir, I'm not done teaching him a lesson," Wash said coldly. His fingers were digging in deeper and deeper. Jayne wasn't quite sure whether he was going to make it through this encounter. He had always thought he'd go down because of a well-aimed bullet; the current scenario discouraged him greatly.

"I understand that, Wash, but his concerns are valid. He wants to know what we're going with our cargo; I'll give him a straight answer."

Wash didn't look thrilled about the arrangement, but he did let Jayne go eventually. The oxygen flooding his lungs was enough of a shock. He much rued the absence of the frame or a railing and was left leaning against the wall clutching at his bruised throat. Jayne shot Wash a dirty look, before glancing back at Mal. His voice was hoarse when he could finally articulate words.

"What're we getting' fer these ruttin' people? Not near enough, I'll bet."

"No, we ain't. We ain't turnin' em in," Mal replied coolly.

Jayne's jaw dropped. "Mal, you ain't serious."

"Why wouldn't I be serious? We ain't turnin' live folk over as slaves."

"Mal, the only gorram reason we're doing this is cuz we're s'pposed to get paid fer it," Jayne yelled. It was immediately followed by a coughing fit that caused Jayne to regret every moment that it didn't stop or didn't make him die. He was, however grateful that it did stop, if not in a timely fashion, because nothing got between Jayne and his rightful payoff. After all the fei hua that had happened recently, Jayne wanted to live richly, not pick up more useless crewmembers. He wasn't even sure that there were enough bunks to go around, assuming that Mal was planning to free the rest of their luckless cargo. Knowing Mal, it wasn't an unreasonable assumption.

"I expect to be paid, even if them's gotta make it so." Jayne pointed viciously at the cowering family as he said it, causing the boy to whimper in fear.

"Jayne, stand down."

"No, Mal—"

"I said stand down!" The captain's cool demeanour was gone, replaced by a man who was not to be argued with. It was something Jayne had only seen the captain do once before. Last time, Mal had threatened to throw Jayne out into the black with naught but his clothes. Now that Jayne saw the hard blue gaze leveled at him for the second time…Jayne wasn't so sure what would happen. He wisely began creeping towards the doorway with his hands spread wide, watching the captain warily. Jayne wasn't going to get away with violence, but he wasn't happy about it.

"I hope yer still lockin' yer door at night. Little sister might not be so bloodthirsty no more, but I sure as hell am lookin' fer a little compensation fer the bullet I got from yer gorram captainin'."

Mal drew his pistol slowly, letting Jayne see every languid movement of well-toned muscles. The captain gestured with the muzzle towards the front of the ship, where Jayne's bunk was located. No words had to be exchanged, and as he looked down the barrel of Mal's gun, Jayne suddenly didn't feel like arguing anymore. He wasn't of the opinion that he had anything more to say, anyway. So Jayne turned around and walked away.

**Chinese:**

_Choum'niao (Chou ma niao)_: Stinking horse urine

_Yeh-soo, ta ma duh…_: Jesus mother of jumped up…

_go tsao de_: dog humping

_gao yang jong duh goo yang: _motherless goat of all motherless goats

_goo yang_s: motherless goats

_BUN tyen-shung duh ee-DWAY-RO_: Stupid, inbred stack of meat

**Honour Roll: Lynx Ryder: **I don't know about giving up on it, I just know I need inspiration. And to find the notebook that had the last chapter in it. Thanks for the encouragement though! –grin- **BlueEyedBrigadier: **Jayne sometimes forgets who's captain of this boat so Mal needs to remind him every once in awhile. As for Kaylee's investigation…well…-cough- It'll be action packed. –nod-


	9. The Book of Jayne IV

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: AU fic. Wash is alive and almost well, _Serenity_'s got more cargo, but there's something missing from the "Happily ever after" equation: Simon got left behind. What happens now?

**Disclaimer**: Don't own nothing. I'm poor.

**Author's Notes: **Hey look, it's section four, now with more Simon and Kaylee goodness!

**The Book of JAYNE**

_part 4_

**Simon couldn't think of a more uncomfortable position to be in.** It was a bad thing to be recognized in a potentially hostile place; a thing which became instantly worse when it was by someone who used to be a close friend. In retrospect, Simon thought that he could have seen something like this occurring, but it didn't make the shock any less than it was.

"Simon, I-I saw you and…I didn't know what to think."

"So you followed me." He tried to make his voice cold and inhospitable. He tried to look angry. None of it worked because all he really wanted to do was grab her up into a tight hug and never let her go again. Of all the things he had missed on Osiris—the prestige, the money, the opportunity, his family—the thing that he had missed most of all was Candace.

"Yes, I followed you," she admitted after pausing a while. "I had to know if you'd come back. Then I saw you come in here and…I knew. This always was your favorite place."

"Can we do this elsewhere if I'm not going to get my food?" he asked caustically. She looked shaken, as though he had physically hurt her. In truth, he probably had just by wandering along a Capitol City street in plain sight. Agony was written in every taut muscle and strained line of her carefully arranged face.

"I wanted to say 'hi,' if nothing else," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, none of this." Simon stood up and placed a finger over her mouth to stop any other sound from escaping. She would apologize for anything, his Candace; and he had tried hard to discourage the habit before he had gone to save his sister. Apparently, she had regressed back to her old ways when he left. Simon found that he minded this small matter quite a lot: It wasn't the apologizing that bothered him, but the fact that she had forgotten that piece of him. Simon desperately wanted to change that.

"Let's go outside. We'll talk someplace quiet," he murmured quietly. He finally withdrew his finger from her mouth, and stepped back. Candace looked to be on the verge of tears. I'm so sorry, baobei, he thought sadly. I never meant for this to happen, you of all people know this…

"When I heard the reports…" she sniffled.

"Ssh…" Simon dug a few credits out to pay for his untouched and much lamented dinner before wrapping his arm around her shoulders and leading her out. If he ignored the feel of rough cloth against his skin and the feel of pending doom, Simon could almost pretend that it was like old times. Candace was tucked up close to his chest close enough for him to feel her answering heartbeat while he held her and kept her safe. Not even River could break them apart: not then and certainly not now.

Right now, the need, the shivering closeness flooded his mind like a freak wave breaking over a shore too long untouched by the rising water. The sensations of her rhythmic heart against his chest and her clean, soapy scent assaulting his nose brought him back to a time so very long ago. They had lain together in the grass, his fingers entwined in her raven-black hair while they gleaned comfort from every bit of contact that was to be found. That was the last night Simon had seen Candace. He could still remember the moment that he looked into her great green eyes, and said, "I'm leaving and I won't be coming back."

She had cried while Simon could do nothing more than hold her and hope she didn't shatter into a million pieces of tear-stained porcelain. All night long the wild beat of her heart ba-bumped against his chest while tears stained his silken shirt. Today, firmly in the present, that stead ba-bump tied him to a world that he no longer wished to be a part of. Her heart was his steadying force; it also made him want to tear away from her touch and run as far and fast as humanly possible. Instead, he led her into an alley and leaned against a cool, shaded brick wall. Simon carefully untucked her from under his arm and manoeuvered her before him. He didn't remove the hands he'd placed on her shoulders, though, because even if he couldn't admit it to himself, he did severely miss the feel of her creamy skin. He still admired her, even after his absence.

"You said you were gone for good," she started. "Gone to save River."

"I did," he replied softly.

"Why are you back? Did you save River, or—"

"I did. She's safe now, back where I should be, being looked after by people who love her."

"Where is that?"

He wanted to tell her about everything that had transpired since the day he had left. How he had heroically saved his sister, how he had been picked up by a rogue transport ship called Serenity, and how he had helped reveal the secret of a dead planet. But even telling her Serenity was a Firefly was saying far too much. She might save him, but his crew was a different matter entirely: people in Osiris were the pinnacle of Alliance obedience. He could remember being that way himself.

"On a ship. A good ship."

"A yacht?" she asked softly. Naïvely. Simon always did like the great, graceful ships; it made sense to her that he would someday find his way onto one.

"Not a yacht. Transport vessel. I can't tell you anything else," he sighed.

"So it's true. You are a fugitive." Her eyes grew wide, disbelieving. "I-I followed the stories until they stopped giving details. They never said you were caught, but I always assumed the worst. How did you manage? How are you still alive?" She looked genuinely confused, pained. Simon couldn't blame her.

"I've been lucky. I don't plan on staying long on Osiris. I can't be noticed by anyone…well, any unfriendly people," he amended. "My crew's coming back for me and there won't be any problem."

"They left you? How can you be sure they'll come back?"

His answer was automatic, to the point where it almost sounded rehearsed: "If I don't believe that, I'll never be able to lie to myself again."

In a way, it was rehearsed; Simon had been spinning the question through his mind on repeat for the past several hours, so he was bound to come up with some sort of an answer, no matter how feeble. Simon knew Serenity was coming back for him. River wouldn't let them leave him alone after all they had been through together. Kaylee would make them turn around to fetch him. Even Mal, to some degree, might want his prize surgeon back. However, the nagging voice in his head that blamed him for Shepherd Book's death and Wash's arm and everything else that had since gone wrong wasn't about to be quieted by simple parroted answers. Serenity wasn't coming to rescue a failure.

He felt the kiss before he saw the painted cherry lips approaching his own chapped ones. Felt the stickiness of freshly applied makeup against his smooth cheek. Her breath ghosted over his pale, sweaty skin. It said, "I'm sorry."

Me too, baobei, he thought. Me too.

**Kaylee watched the kiss with an apathetic eye from her vantage point around the corner.** When she neglected to comment or ruin the moment, she was almost pleased with herself. She thought she was entitled to walk in on him, but it didn't seem right on any level. The smear of lipstick on his mouth explained just about everything she had ever wondered about Simon Tam; it wasn't right to intrude on what she hadn't been meant to see.

But the awkwardness, the lack of social skills that Kaylee had been sure that everyone was born with…! Sure, Simon had to deal with River on a regular basis, but that wouldn't answer how he was consistently dense and impossible and socially inept. He was either doing it on purpose, or he was thinking of someone else, and either way, it pointed to a girl that he had left at home. Simon Tam was love sick.

Kaylee could have guessed, she supposed, but she had always faintly hoped that she would be the one for Simon. After the mechanic glimpsed relaxation and true serenity in the doctor's glazed eyes, even though he looked as though he had just received horrible news…well, Kaylee had been a fool to think that she could have given Simon what he needed.

She tried to smile for him. She smiled until she could pretend that she was truly happy for him. It almost worked, but not well enough.

"**What's your big, genius plan now, sir?"** Zoë asked mildly.

Mal wasn't sure, but he thought she was being sarcastic. "Well, Zoë, we're gonna free the rest of them kind folk from the boxes, put somethin' back in the crates, then reassemble 'em nicelike. Knowin' the Feds, they ain't gonna wanna open up goods like that in front of us. We'll be off planet before they know what's in there for real. Hopefully, there'll be somethin' in our pockets for our troubles. Then we'll go get Kaylee 'n Simon, and we'll go find a nice border planet for our friends. That reasonable?" Mal turned towards Alex as he asked the last part. Having been rescued first and being the only man currently freed, the patriarch had been unofficially dubbed the leader of the box people.

"Yeah, yeah, tha's fine. Jes' grateful not ta have ta go ta 'sephone," the man frowned. "Ain't good folk on 'sephone. My brother went 'n came back with his hands broken. Don't want my son su'jected ta that."

"Don't rightly blame you. We'll have to stow you in a bunk or in a niche somewhere till the Feds collect the cargo, but that shouldn't be a problem. If I were you, I'd stay outta Jayne's way; he has big damn guns. Otherwise, I think the next hour or two should be a smooth one, assumin' things go as planned."

"Sir, what were you planning on throwin' in the boxes?" Zoë asked.

"Jayne?" Mal shrugged.

"Sir?"

"Maybe not Jayne, but I bet we can find some interestin' stuff on our little Serenity."

**Jayne smiled.** Mal was going to expect some form of retaliation, but the mercenary didn't believe that Mal would be ready for it so soon. Not after the captain had effectively told Jayne to "go to his room."

In fact, not even Jayne had expected to take revenge this early. When he had torn his blanket down from the wall over his bed and revealed Vera in all her splendour, it soon became obvious that there really was no other option but to take revenge. He held her as carefully as any of his lovers, touched her in all the right places, and it only served to remind him of the fantastic and bloody times that they had shared. She was calling to him, asking him to play with her; he was only too happy to oblige.

He fingered Vera lovingly: a Callahan fullbore autolock, with customized trigger and double cartridge thourough-gage. In short, his biggest and favoritest gun in the whole 'verse. She needed air to breathe, just like himself, and it endeared her to him even more. It was almost as though she was a real girl that Jayne had brought up right. When he said, "dance," she was nothing short of absolute gloriousness, his Vera. Given that she was such a trusty and loyal girl, Jayne thought that it might be time to warm her up and make her dance again. Sure, his shoulder and head still hurt, but if he waited any longer to carry out his mission, he was going to miss payoff.

Jayne wasn't about to abide by that.

He took the opportunity to snatch up a couple of pistols and a knife as well, in case he ran out of ammo. Grenades were a tad extreme in such close quarters, so he opted to leave them in his bunk. It wasn't as though he actually expected the mutiny to be difficult without explosives. When the weapons were arranged on his various belts and clips—with Vera settled comfortably against his chest—Jayne yanked open the hatch to the hallway and climbed out of his bunk.

The dining area sounded empty, same as the little room off the fining area. Jayne thought that Mal might have moved the box people out of harm's way. It wasn't an inaccurate assumption, but it sure made Jayne's job harder. He would have really liked to scare the box people first, before he drugged them and stuffed them back into the crate they had come from. Jayne didn't mind much though; he'd find them. Serenity was only so big.

"Mal, I wanna talk," the mercenary called. His boot steps echoed around the tiny space, assaulting his ears in a disruptive manner. It wasn't conducive to a good listening atmosphere. Jayne was lucky that there wasn't an answer, despite not having expected any. The captain wasn't stupid. He probably knew that Jayne was coming after him now. It made the hunt that much more fun.

"Mal!" he yelled. He ignored the stairs that went down to the cargo bay, intent on checking the bridge, when he heard scuffling noises from downstairs. Jayne backtracked and waited to see if he could make out any of the sounds.

"Wash, ain't like the Fed's is gonna care if we give 'em one or the other. It ain't what they wanted, ain't gonna matter what they get."

"Captain, I really think we're gonna need it somewhere down the road."

"Well we don't need it now; it goes."

"Are you being rational about this, sir?"

"We ain't got time to be debatin', Zoë. It don't show the proper respect, it goes."

"It's been useful before, sir."

"Ain't useful now. Throw it in."

Jayne tensed. He was utterly convinced that they were talking about him. Spying wasn't normally his favorite past time—it was far too boring for his tastes—but Jayne wasn't going to throw caution to the wind today. He gently slid the knife—he had named it named Boo—out of his sheath and angled it to catch the light. The steel blade reflected Mal, Wash, and Zoë arguing about what was very probably Jayne's future.

"Anythin' or anyone ain't helpin' our cause goes in the box for our friends, is that very clear?" Mal asked.

"Sure thing, captain, I'm just not sure we can afford to scrap everything," Wash pointed out.

"Someone go fetch Inara, I'm sure she's got some fanciness she can donate for us. Wash, go get them plastic dinosaurs livin' on the bridge. Anything. Hell, get Jayne down here, he'll fit in."

The breath caught in Jayne's throat. That was it. They were going to give him over to the Alliance as dead weight. They were making up the missing weight of the slaves that used to occupy the cargo boxes to get their pay. It never once crossed the mercenary's mind that the whole thing might have been his fault, but he sure was regretting having opened the box.

"Ai ya…" Jayne muttered. "'N 'nara too." Mal had clearly gone crazy; there was no other explanation for his uncharacteristically caustic behaviour. Now Jayne was not only fighting time, but Mal's possibly dangerous whims. Jayne would just have to take the ship a bit quicker then.

Meanwhile, Wash was yelling about the reptiles that lived on the bridge as he ran up the steps to the fore passage. Zoë was right behind him, judging by the double pounding of footwear on metal. Jayne was forced to backpedal as he jammed Boo back into the sheath. They didn't know that he had been spying on them and if Jayne had anything to say on the matter, they wouldn't know. He quickly hid Vera in an enclosure of sorts before trying to look as though he had been out of his bunk for nothing more than a stroll of Serenity.

"He can't do that! Wife, tell me he can't do that," Wash moaned.

"He is the captain," Zoë sighed.

"But those dinosaurs…! I named them you know. You know I can't get rid of anything that has extreme sentimental value!"

Well, don't it just suck ta be yer arm then? Jayne thought.

"Husband, I don't think the captain is going to make you put your dinosaurs in. Jayne and Inara will help out and there won't be any need after that."

"You think so?"

"Of course. Jayne!" Zoë sounded mildly started; though the mercenary wasn't positive on that score. "Thought you were gonna to be in your bunk," she remarked.

"Well, I was. Then I got bored, 'n…well…" Jayne floundered.

"Are you okay?" Wash's eyes darkened. "Your…your arm…" He pointed vaguely at his shoulder, looking somewhat green as he did so. Jayne frowned, following Wash's gaze to the point on his own body where his arm met his chest. The sleeve of the orange t-shirt was almost entirely soaked in blood, something that Jayne had neglected to notice in his exertions. He could only guess that he had popped the stitching while climbing out of his bunk.

"Oh uh, right. I was…gonna get this checked out too," Jayne answered mildly. The fact that he hadn't noticed the bleeding somewhat unnerved him, but he didn't dare ruin the perfectly good opportunity to get Mal under his power.

"You should be resting," Zoë said. She looked slightly disapproving, but she always looked slightly disapproving.

"Should be. Ain't. Gonna get new stitches now."

"Right. Do. Stitches are relatively good things." Wash nodded slowly, trying not to look at the blood.

"When you're done, the captain wants to see you," Zoë added.

"Uh, right. Thanks," Jayne muttered. He let them pass, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible. It wasn't exactly hard to blend into the background, considering that his skin was beginning to turn the ashy colour associated with blood loss. It was disconcerting to say the least.

Zoë disappeared down into her and Wash's bunk while Wash sulked up to the bridge. Jayne was left by himself. He couldn't think of a better time to talk to Mal; and, all things considered, Jayne had to admit that he'd been pretty lucky. He left Vera in her little hideout, and descended.

Unlike in the dining area, he didn't announce his presence. Jayne could have just shot Mal in the head, but it lacked a certain sort of finesse and personality. Jayne really just wanted a few answers, among other things. Maybe he would be generous, and shoot the captain quickly. It depended on a few things.

He stalked over to Mal, who was busy checking the contents of the second box. Stealthily pulled out the first pistol. Aimed it square at the back of the captain's head. Mal stiffened at the sound of the safety clicking off.

"You got a few things to say to me. I suggest ya start now," Jayne said evenly.

Mal sighed. "Iffin you listened to me sometimes, you'd know I planned on gettin' paid."

"I ain't believin' ya. We're in too tight a spot, 'n I heard ya talkin'! I ain't gonna be shipped to the Alliance cause ya wanna save a bunch a strangers."

Mal almost choked on a spurt of laughter. "Give you—what the hell you on about?"

"I heard ya tellin' Zoë 'n Wash, 'n I ain't standin' fer it. I ain't givin' ya the opportunity," Jayne frowned.

"Jayne…" Mal couldn't stop the grin from lighting his face. "Yer off yer nut!"

"Mal, I'm serious!" Jayne wasn't about to be laughed at. Not when he had a gun to Mal's head. He jabbed the weapon into the other man's skull as a reminder.

"I'm sure you are, Jayne, but you're sadly misinformed." Mal turned around with an amused look. He plucked the pistol out of Jayne's weakened and bloodied fist, clicked the safety back on, and tossed it into the box. Jayne gawped.

"V-Veronica!"

"You name…all…your guns?" Mal cocked an eyebrow.

"Kao! Mal, they're like wives! You do not get away with takin' a man's wife—"

"Mal, we're landing in twenty minutes, get those boxes sealed up." Wash's voice echoed through the bay from the intercom system. Jayne didn't flinch much.

"—that's theft, 'n you know it!"

"I know lots of things, Jayne. I know we ain't getting' paid if we can't convince the Feds we ain't tampered with their cargo. I need you to donate for us. Might be…Veronica…might be some other gun. Whatever you've got to throw in, you add. We'll make it up with our winnings. You know you gotta spend coin to make coin, 'n that's oft true. You interested in getting' paid, or just fightin' with me?"

Jayne bit his lip, expression warring between pure rage and grudging hope. "Ya promise?" he whispered. Mal almost missed the tiny question.

"On my honour. I take care a my crew, iffin I haven't made it plenty clear before." Mal looked sincere far as Jayne could tell. Jayne did know that Mal was exceedingly kind to his crew, almost too much so. Mal got vicious if one of his crew was threatened; Jayne had born a bump on his head for weeks because of it.

He tentatively reached for the last gun at his back. Tina. She wasn't as good as her sister Veronica, but she held six rounds, was sturdy, and reliable. Jayne would miss her. He laid a kiss on the metal skin of the pistol before gently placing it on top of the pile. Mal said nothing.

"Everything is as it should be. The hole is closing, the eye is weary, tired. Tired of seeing everything. Letting us go. We are worthy." River's ethereal voice startled Jayne, but Mal seemed to have expected it.

"You got us into a lot of trouble today, little albatross," he said softly, not turning around. "We ain't even outta the woods yet. I'd go hide again if I were you."

"They don't want me. They won't see what they're not interested in. There is no changing the inevitable…no power in the 'verse can stop it. They will take their boxes and leave and we will be all alone. A spot of nothingness; they will care no more."

"Wonder why I ain't comforted by this charmin' sentiment," Jayne muttered.

Mal turned to eye River, noticing she was gliding towards them in her bare feet. Her naked hand was clutching at a big damn sabre.

Jayne jerked back involuntarily. He had learned long ago to stay away from her when there were knives concerned. The scar across his chest attested to that. The creeping pain in his shoulder ached sympathetically at the memory: the unprovoked slashing attack and gush of blood. It still gave him the willies.

"River," Mal started gently.

"No! It must go! It isn't loyal; it scares people. It's not good. They can take it. It cannot stay on Serenity." River stepped up to the box and deposited the blade carefully, almost tenderly. She musta kept it after Miranda, Jayne thought curiously. Girl's out to kill us after all…

"Good girl," Mal was saying.

"The girl is good but the weapon is not. _Shen me guan tou ren zuo fan dui zhe yang lu mang di yuan hen…_"

"River, sweetie, why aren't you—oh! Jayne, your…your shoulder." Inara and Zoë had joined them, arms laden with clothes and a few miscellaneous items from Inara's shuttle.

"You wanna be seein' to that?" Mal asked, gesturing at Jayne's shoulder.

"Not if he tears the stitches again," Inara answered hotly, glaring at the mercenary.

"I can answer fer my own self," Jayne muttered. "Besides, ain't nobody at Mal's back 'n—"

"Jayne, if I wanted to stab you in the back, I'd follow my own policy 'n make sure you knew why I was doin' it. Go get sewed up," Mal said firmly. "Inara, dump yer stuff in, we'll box everythin' up. Zoë, take River to her bunk or let her stay with the box folk in the spare bunks. Don't much care which. Make sure they don't make noise. When you're done, come back and help me unload."

"Right, sir." The fact that the whole matter was less than savoury went unsaid.

"Mal, I can help," Jayne added. "I got Vera."

"No. We're not a threat. Alliance needs to know that. Won't work otherwise. You can't do no liftin', you're better off stayin' in the infirmary with Vera in case things get ugly."

Mal hadn't said "go to your bunk" exactly, but it didn't lessen the fact that that was the second time in less than two hours. Jayne was expected to act as backup: to go in and save the day when things went south. Jayne didn't know whether to be ecstatic that he could help, or pissed that he couldn't.

"Right. I'll go get 'er, then." Her being Vera, still hidden up in the passageway. He dragged himself up the stairs with an increasing lethargy, careful not to jar his shoulder.

"See that you do. Inara, prep whatever it is you have to for Jayne. I'll get the boxes in place."

"Sir, we are landing…" Wash's voice was apprehensive and full of tension. Everyone's faces clearly reflected the mood of the operation, and none were even the slightest bit optimistic.

"Let's get to work," Mal murmured.

**Chinese:**

_Shen me guan tou ren zuo fan dui zhe yang lu mang di yuan hen: _What can men do against such reckless hate?

**Honour Roll: Lynx Ryder: **'Course Jayne's an idiot, that's why I love him. Even Simon and his modestness and Wash's newfound angst. **Treeofdooom: **Cry no more, here's an update! A longish one too, actually. Nope, story's far from dead, I just need a bit of prompting to update. **garden-crafter: **Well, you can be sure it's nobody good that recognized him. Can't have a good story line without lots of snags. I have written more and I'm glad you're cool with Wash not being dead. It makes me smile.


	10. The Book of Jayne V

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: AU fic. Wash is alive and almost well, _Serenity_'s got more cargo, but there's something missing from the "Happily ever after" equation: Simon got left behind. What happens now?

**Disclaimer**: Still poor. Couldn't own Firefly if I wanted.

**Author's Notes: **I wanted to do a two chapter update because this one was so short and because I can. Honour Roll's on the next chapter.

**The Book of JAYNE**

_part 5_

**_Serenity_ stood proudly at attention over the three boxes of pristine cargo, her captain and first mate ready to do business their customer.** Lord Shuffleton couldn't look more pleased.

"Everything seems to be in order, Captain. Any problems with the shipping?" the old lord asked kindly. He should have been just another innocent _tzoo foo_, not a dealer in slaves.

"No, not at all. Not with our Alliance escourt." Mal shook his head.

"Good, good. You will be wanting the rest of the payment, correct?"

"That would be nice, yes."

"Fair enough. Job well done, my friends." The old man grinned widely, unhooking a pouch at his waist and tossing it to Mal.

"Thank you kindly, sir." Mal smiled weakly. "Maybe we'll do business again."

"Count on it." Shuffleton grinned indulgently. "Good flight, Captain."

"Thank you, sir."

**Mal punched the intercom. **"Wash, take us outta atmo, please?" The pilot hadn't left his post, in case they needed a fast getaway; they could already hear the Firefly's big engines spooling up while Zoë parked the Mule properly.

"A minute from lift off," Wash answered.

"Make it faster," Mal barked.

"Yes, sir."

"And let us not look back on this rotten sphere of a planet ever again," the captain murmured. He pushed the button for the bay door to retract and returned to help set the Mule in order.

"Everything shiny?" he asked tentatively.

"Could use a fresh coat of paint, sir," she replied.

"No doubt." They were all looking somewhat dull these days. The crew of _Serenity_ always tried to give itself a high moral place to stand on, but that mighty platform was getting worn and ragged now. The line between arrogance and righteousness was awful thin.

He smelled her before he saw her: a floral scent tended to precede Inara Serra. Mal didn't recognize the flower of the day, but it wasn't unpleasant because of the scent. Her perfume reminded him of bad memories, times where he had utterly screwed up and didn't have the courage to admit it. He wouldn't ever admit his mistakes now—they were too long past—but they still made him sad.

"Are we ever going to give up this petty thievery?" she asked quietly.

"Some day. Maybe. Jayne and River been seen to?"

"Jayne is asleep; River is with our refugees."

"Good. We'll be puttin' Persephone behind us soon, goin' back for Simon and Kaylee."

"Mal…you're losing your crew," she blurted.

Mal wasn't going to lie and say that he hadn't seen the statement coming. It was something he'd been contemplating a long time. Malcolm Reynolds had been stringing his crew along for a year on an ever increasingly long rope. Surely Mal couldn't help that a few had drifted away towards the end. Of course, the ones who had drifted would argue otherwise.

He had pushed them away.

The captain glanced at the infirmary, saw Vera's muzzle peeking around the corner. Saw Jayne passed out with the gun cradled in his arms, the butt nestled against a fresh white bandage. Jayne had tried to kill him today; Mal wished he knew why that that thought didn't bother him more.

**Chinese:**

_Tzoo foo_- grandfather


	11. The Book of Kaylee I

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: AU, post-BDM fic. Kaylee went back to fetch Simon and learned a lot about the doctor she wished she hadn't. While they try to reconcile their differences, it turns out that the Hands of Blue will take what they can get.

**Disclaimer**: Joss is Boss. This is just what I'd like to see if he ever decided to resurrect the beast.

**Author's Notes: **And here's the next chapter as promised. Honour Roll at the end.

**The Book of KAYLEE**

_part 1_

**If she didn't know any better, Kaylee would have thought Simon was genuinely happy for once in his life. **That sort of phenomenon didn't occur nearly enough as it should have, (not in Kaylee's opinion, at any rate) and it was almost cause for celebration. She had often wondered what a happy Simon entailed, and now the answer was quite obvious. Of course, now Kaylee had just soared past forgiving and dove headlong into the realm of bittersweet goodbyes. She didn't really want to spoil the moment for the doctor; she just could help feeling the tiniest bit jealous and unhappy. At this rate it was far better to just let Simon alone.

Kaylee released the corner of the building from her grip and turned around slowly, leaving the two to their own devices. She would just have to get along without Simon. It would be hard, no doubt, but she could start by eliminating any thoughts and emotions she ever had for him in the first place. She even had quite a few things to aid in her endeavour, such as her little _Serenity_. She loved the Firefly with every ounce of her being and _Serenity_ always performed for her mechanic. _Serenity_ was her good girl and there would be no more distractions when it came to the two of them. Their relationship was, more often than not, very high maintenance, so the mechanic needed every bit of concentration she could muster for her ship. Why, Kaylee wasn't even sure how she originally found time to like Simon in the first place…

She gave a sigh. This was going to be harder than she thought.

**Simon had to break the kiss first.** It felt really wrong—_Actually, it feels quite right_, his sarcasm informed him cheerfully—to be engaging in this sort of contact. Especially after all that had happened since he had left. And River, of course. He had to get back to River.

"C-Candace, I…" he stuttered. When he could peer into her leaf-coloured eyes, she looked completely apologetic. She was probably thinking along the same lines that he himself had only just considered.

"Let me buy you food, at least, for the dinner I interrupted," she said softly.

"I don't know, I should be looking for a place to wave my crew, they could be waiting for me…"

"I understand. It's been too long." She nodded, a remorseful smile crinkling the corners of her eyes just like he remembered. "I'm sorry."

"N—…Candace," Simon sighed.

"No, really, it's okay. I have to be at St. Lucia's and I'm late as it is."

_Great…cold and distant…_ he thought sadly. _If I hadn't botched the relationship when I left, I surely did now. N-no, it's better this way. It has to be. But…curious._

"If you're late now, why did you want to buy me dinner? It would make you even later."

"I was just being nice. Your parents might be interested in seeing you, if you're not in too big of a hurry." Candace tried to look accepting, and—when she failed that—nonchalant. His aloofness was finally getting the reaction Simon had originally intended: She was drawing away from him because it was what he wanted. Or rather, she acting in the way that he thought was best for both of them. Simon wasn't entirely sure that it was fair that there was a difference in the two.

"I didn't want to leave," he said.

"You didn't have to," she countered, heat flushing her cheeks.

"If you knew what they did to her…" Simon still couldn't find the words to describe it properly. He could only imagine what it must have been like for River. "They cut into her brain. Planted secrets and government plans and…Candace, they turned her into a weapon. Her amygdala was tampered with; she feels everything to such a dangerous degree that I sometimes…sometimes, I don't think that I can help her. You're a doctor, you know what that cutting into a healthy brain means!"

She sighed. "Simon, I replaced you at the trauma centre."

"Wh…what?" Simon hadn't anticipated the change in conversation at all and couldn't properly respond to it. He was sure his confusion was evident from his expression, but either Candace was ignoring it, or she was steeling herself to continue.

"You left and I took your position. Nobody thought you were coming back alive, if at all. Your parents were depressed for ages, thinking they'd lost their son. You hurt them, Simon; I had to pick up the pieces."

"Why do you think that?" He frowned. Simon knew there would be repercussions from his leaving, but his parents already knew that they were losing him from the moment they forbid him from trying to find his sister. It wasn't a surprise for them. They couldn't have been that bothered by the event if they had gone ahead and severed their ties with him like they had promised.

Candace's big, sorrowful eyes seemed to flash and suddenly, Simon didn't feel quite so safe. She looked positively possessed; he had never seen her be anything but contrite before. Even three years of bitterness didn't translate into sudden, murderous rage.

"Simon, we used to have something, believe it or not," she said coldly. "When you left, I wasn't exactly the cheerful ball of sunshine I used to be." She ran a hand through her long dark hair absently. Simon remembered do a similar thing to that hair while they lay curled together on the bank of that lake their last night together. Such a distant memory now. "I went to your parents to see if they had any clues or pieces they could offer. They were taking it hard, Simon, really hard. They'd hoped you would come to your senses. Hoped they'd taught you better than that."

"Then they should have supported me. I don't regret what I've done." _Much_, he amended silently. "River is doing better, we have a new life. We're part of a ship's crew now. Candace, I can't return to this life. Not after everything I've done."

"Then why are you here now?" Her expression was plainly full of mistrust. Simon couldn't blame her, but he was still wary of her last mood swing.

"I already told you. My crew was in a hurry and I didn't get back on the ship in time."

"And River's with your crew," she said softly.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Simon."

Simon sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Candace, what did I say—?"

"Simon, you're a fugitive."

"Candace, I know that," he returned tonelessly.

"You left me to save your sister. And you show up how many years later thinking that everyone's forgotten you? The world doesn't work like that. I'm sorry, Simon."

Simon barely had time to frown, let alone formulate a question. This time, the hand on his shoulder was a heavy one and it meant serious business. A second one alighted on his other shoulder like a vulture, weighing him down.

"Simon Tam, you are hereby bound by law."

His mouth dropped open in shock, even as her lips thinned with disapproval. Her green eyes were dark, troubled. Apologetic? "I had to do it, Simon."

"W-why?" he breathed.

"Because you left me, Simon." It was that simple. There were no other answers; just those simple four words explained the last three years of their lives. _Because you left me_. She didn't even seem to think there was something wrong with her logic. One of the Feds began dragging him out of the alley, but Simon dug his heel in. He needed a last word.

"And this is going to make it better?" Simon didn't try to hide the feeling of disgust and hurt that must have been on his face. He hurt too much for that.

"Your parents will get to see you one last time. They'd like that."

_Oh God…the girl is psychotic… _he thought frantically. _She means to keep me here!_ That was when he began struggling in earnest. He wouldn't be taken quietly, not now. He grunted as he smashed a shoe heel into the foot of the closest Fed. Simon felt that officer's hand unclench slightly, and Simon pressed his advantage. He wrested his shoulder from the grip and used the momentum to fly towards the officer that still held him captive. The plan might have worked, had Simon been powerful and streetwise. Incidentally, the Fed was used to this kind of trick and deftly caught Simon's wrist, twisting it neatly until Simon felt the bones give way.

That one move had dropped Simon to his knees and it was terrifically unfair. So much effort wasted and now his wrist was broken. Eventually, the pain caused him to black out, but not before he had thought that maybe coming back to Osiris wasn't such a great idea after all.

**The sound of scuffling was out of place on a planet like this.** Kaylee turned to watch as an irate officer stormed out of an alley. In fact…it was the same alley she had last seen Simon in. Her breath caught in her throat. This was so very, very bad.

She began pushing back towards the alley, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The smudges of engine grease on her face and hands made it a little harder, everyone being so clean on this planet, but she could ignore the pointed stares for the moment. By the time she was ten metres away, she could see a second Fed with a man slung over his shoulder. She could recognize that gaudy shirt anywhere.

"Simon!" Kaylee yelled. The fact that he didn't move indicated that he was probably unconscious. That was even worse. Given her options, she did the best thing she could do under the circumstances. She ran at the officers.

"Let 'him go!"

"Lady, easy, get away!"

"No, let 'im go!" She beat on the man's back with all she had.

"Lady, assaulting an officer of the law is serious!"

"Simon!"

She'd been asking for trouble the moment she ran at the Feds. She knew it would only have been a matter of time before one of them got up the nerve to restrain her. When the unhindered one came up behind her to pin her arms to her sides, she began kicking. When she began kicking, he knocked her unconscious. That was why you didn't fight the law.

**Chinese:**

_N/A_

**Honour Roll: Lynx Ryder: **You know, you rock my socks with your reviews. School's…well, we'll see about a come back on JA soon. **lions-of-judah: **You're welcome! Think Joss would take me?


	12. The Book of Kaylee II

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: AU, post-BDM fic. Kaylee went back to fetch Simon and learned a lot about the doctor she wished she hadn't. While they try to reconcile their differences, it turns out that the Hands of Blue will take what they can get.

**Disclaimer**: I think I finally get to own someone! This may or may not be a good thing, but I'll take it. Still don't own anyone of Serenity though.

**Author's Notes: **Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse…well, they do! Settle back, snap in and hang on, Honour Roll's always at the end.

**The Book of KAYLEE**

_part 2_

"How much farther to Osiris?" Mal mumbled around a yawn.

"Couple of hours. We're not using conventional space lanes now, we're ducking by all Alliance patrols," Wash answered promptly. Mal had already ordered the very same thing; Wash was just confirming what had already been decided.

"And nobody's following us?"

"Not a living thing."

Mal nodded absently. "Good. Shiny. You have a lock on the shuttle?"

"Yes, sir. It's at the docks where we first landed. I tried waving her, but she's not answering."

Mal sighed unhappily; he didn't really expect Kaylee to answer anyway. She probably thought he was a fierce old hump for not going back to fetch Simon with her. Hell, even he felt like a fierce old hump. She was probably staying quiet out of spite.

"How are our passengers faring?" Wash asked, still rather uncomfortable with any form of silence.

Mal shrugged. "Still alive. Prolly a lil worse for wear. Still camped in the empty bunks, last I checked."

"Are you gonna let them out?"

"Possibly."

Wash didn't press the matter further. While he didn't like silence, he still wasn't entirely confident talking to Mal alone just yet. There was just something about having your captain go through hell (this whole mess with the box people) to make your life easier (purchasing your prosthetic arm) that put a damper on the relationship. He didn't see that there was any need to tease the lions. That was the idea, at least, until River skipped up to the bridge.

"One of the little ones threw up in the bed," she announced carelessly. "Turned into water and evaporated up into the sky. It became rain and protein chunks."

"Well, isn't that charming?" Wash asked. "I'll go clean it up since I'm no longer needed."

"Wash, stay and keep watch for Alliance patrols. I'll take care of it," Mal cut in.

"You haven't got better captainy things to do?"

Mal gave him a long, tired look. "Keep watch. Don't let us crash."

"Yes, sir," Wash answered. Neither of them was in a fighting mood. None of them had been since Miranda. Mal left the bridge as briskly as ever for appearance's sake, but River stayed to watch the pilot go through the motions of scanning the radar and checking for enemy ships. Wash wasn't exactly _uncomfortable_ with the arrangement, but he did tense somewhat. River was unpredictable and a very good fighter to boot; it was sheer stupidity to let one's guard down around her completely.

"I'd compliment you on your hotwiring capabilities, but I don't think the captain would appreciate that," Wash said blandly as he could manage.

"The captain is dark. He feels too much," River answered.

"Generally the mark of a good captain."

"The captain is an open vessel. He hurts and floats and can't help but be buffeted by his crew. He's too open. It's going to hurt him someday."

Wash wasn't going to disagree with that, but it almost seemed disloyal of him to agree out loud. "You've been flying a lot; you want to take over?" he asked instead.

"The pilot doesn't trust the girl." She grinned knowingly, which wasn't an inaccurate statement given her proclivity for mind reading. "He will keep a close eye on her and make sure she doesn't move them from their course."

"Well…yes, but it's not anything against you," he remarked quickly.

"We weren't off course. We're spiraling in a cosmic dance, closer to Nirvana but never reaching it. It's too elusive, too profound. Only she knows that this was the right path and no one believes her." She laughed then, one of those creepy, otherworldly laughs that meant all was not right in the brainpan. Wash tried to shine a reassuring smile at her.

"I wouldn't take it personally. No one believes anything Jayne says and he could kill us all on a whim."

"The man with the girl's name wouldn't kill; he is a puppy who's been told not to bite too often. Toothless and clawless now."

"Doesn't make him any less scary," Wash answered guardedly.

"Him or her?" she asked cheekily. He understood she knew the real answer. Knew full well he'd almost said "her."

"We'll be on Osiris sometime tomorrow. You may want to hide until we get out of orbit again. Hopefully, Kaylee will have fuel enough to get her and Simon out of atmo so we don't have to pick them up planetside—"

"They've been captured," River interrupted. It was abrupt and unexpected, but it wasn't so much that she had been speaking loudly; Wash had been babbling. The pilot didn't have many opportunities or reasons to babble.

"Captured? Like 'tag, you're it,' captured or what?"

"Two by two…" she whispered.

Wash's eyes widened. "Okay, if this is a joke, it's a little tasteless, but you can still quit while you're ahead."

River shook her head violently. "Two by two, hands of blue!"

"_Gwai-gwai long duh dong_!" Blue Hand. Simon and Kaylee. River never lied about that kind of stuff and even she would never tease about it. "Are they still on Osiris?"

"Still. Not for long. Soon they'll be gone, poof."

"How long?"

"They will resist," River said blankly. "Make it hard. They will not like that."

"Okay, don't tell me." Wash leaned forward, pressing the button for the intercom. "Mal, vomit can wait, you're needed on the bridge. Faster would be appreciated."

As soon as he depressed the button, he began running checks on all Alliance ships within range of the radar. He located the cruiser _Cortez_, but it was too small, too out of the way, and too harmless to be utilized by people like the Blue Hand. There was something that Wash was missing: either the prisoners weren't about to be taken off world, or _Serenity_ was going to be far too late to be of any help. The pilot seriously hoped that it wasn't the latter. He glanced at River who was sitting dazedly in the copilot's chair. She didn't look exactly fazed by the news she had just confided, but she certainly wasn't her usual, cheerfully crazy self either.

"Where would the Hands be taking them if they were to be shipped off world?" Wash asked.

"The sun is darkened, veiled in cellophane so it cannot shine. It's dark! It can see us," River cried. Her thoughts were getting more troubled by the moment as her face clouded with anxiety. "She did not foresee it."

If she was going to say more, Wash didn't know. They were interrupted by the sound of boots bounding up the half flight of stairs to the bridge. "Now what is so gorram important it can't wait till the ship's in workin' order?" Mal griped.

"Well, sir, our little River's gone and seen something pretty darn interesting if I do say so myself," Wash remarked. "Something that you might want to be included in."

Mal turned towards River. "Well, li'l albatross, what of it?"

River didn't return the look. "They're knocked out, passed out. They'll wake up afraid and alone. But they'll have each other."

"I do so hope this is someone we ain't carin' about," the captain said gruffly.

"Seems that Simon and Kaylee got themselves caught by some friends of ours. Got little blue gloves, scary as all hell?"

Mal's eyes darkened. "Yer makin' light a this. Either it's bad or it ain't, but I won't have you sugar-coatin' it."

Wash sighed. "According to River, the Blue Hand has our crew. According to me, that is kind of a bad thing."

The captain went still; though if one were watching close enough, he'd notice that Mal's muscles had tensed to the point of shivering minutely. "Are they still on world?"

"I think so, yes."

"Good. We'll fetch 'em. They better not be the worse fer wear."

"Mal, I have no idea where to start looking for 'em," the pilot warned.

"They're still on Osiris 'n we got our own trackin' beacon right here. River'll pick em up. We'll bail 'em out."

"Mal—"

"Not a word, Wash. Get us there quick as ya can. We're big damn heroes, 'n we ain't late."

"Okay, Captain, _boo yao ming duh soo doo_ it is."

"Damn right it is. River, where's our fine crew members at?"

"They're being detained until the hands come marching. You will know them by the trail of screams," River whispered slightly. Her eyes were glazed, a sure sign that she was clearly not in her mind right then. Mal nodded acknowledgement anyway and turned to the pilot.

"Well, see, there you go. Wash, follow the trail of screams."

"Sir, I'm kinda deaf when it comes to voices not inside the ship," he remarked.

"Then just get us to Osiris."

"Can do that, sir," Wash answered cheerfully. Mal glanced over, trying not to think of the events that had recently transpired. Less than a month ago Wash had had two healthy arms; less than a day ago, the pilot had but one arm to speak for. Now that he had two again, the pilot was using the new one as efficiently as the original. It caused Mal to wonder whether or not it was right that people could get over a hump like that so quickly. Maybe they really were just damned lucky.

"Buzz when we get close," the captain finally replied. "I'm gonna free the folk so they get some exercise. It's a long trip from the core to the border."

"Sure, captain. Might even take River with you," he suggested.

Mal rolled his eyes. "C'mon lil albatross, we're not wanted here."

"Being wanted is like selling your soul. If you ever see it again, it'll be crushed up into little tiny pieces and smushed up into a soup."

"That's the spirit."

XXX

He didn't want to open his eyes. Opening his eyes might hurt and he didn't want to hurt anymore. His wrist was blue and red and hot and cold and generally unbearable. That was more than enough feeling for now. He tried lifting his forearm to assess the damage in a tactile manner, but he had to stop immediately when he felt his wrist flop heavily backwards. It was no more than several floppily joined together pieces. He shuddered and curled further into his protective ball, more determined than ever not to open his eyes.

"Simon? Simon, you're alive, but are you all right?" a voice asked tentatively. It was familiar in all the wrong ways.

"No, go 'way," he mumbled. It wasn't true; it couldn't be true.

"Simon!" His shoulder shook, agitating his wrist and causing him to hiss in pain. The voice moaned miserably. "Simon!"

"I won' let you tease me," Simon slurred.

"Simon, please open your eyes?"

He whimpered. It was going to hurt; he knew it. Simon cracked open an eyelid, trying to make sense of the blurred shapes swimming above him. Eventually, the brown and pink blob sort of resembled a person, and he dared to open his eye a little further. It was definitely hair that was definitely brown: not the black he'd originally feared. The kind, worried eyes, the parted mouth…they didn't even slightly resemble Candace.

"Kaylee," he breathed.

"Simon," Kaylee sighed. "Ya had me perfectly worried back there. Weren't sure you were gonna wake up or not." She looked afraid, if still slightly blurry, but Simon attributed it to having just woken up.

"You shouldn'a been. 'M sorry you were…perfectly worried, was it?" Simon's eyelids dropped closed again. They were so heavy and he was so tired.

"That's right, Simon. I was perfectly worried. Please open your eyes again. Simon, just open yer eyes for me?"

Simon complied again so that he was able to see just how worried she really was. She either didn't try hiding it, or the feeling was too intense to overcome. Simon thought it was endearing.

"Kaylee, I'm sorry for getting caught. But…if I'm caught, where are—"

"We're humped," she said softly. Nevertheless, she smiled for him.

Simon felt his spirit sink a bit more. "How did you find me? Did _Serenity_ turn around?"

She shrugged. "Mal 'n the others will be along eventually, it just might…take 'em…awhile."

"What do you mean, 'awhile'?" he asked cautiously.

"Well…I didn't exactly see 'em turn around, but I bet they're gonna when they get the job done," Kaylee answered confidently.

"How long does that take?" Simon asked dully. He didn't think it mattered in the long run if his captors intended to torture him. Given his criminal record, he didn't doubt it, but maybe the others would make it back before torture became an option. He hoped it was far more than just another pipe dream.

"Well…judgin' by how far out we were 'n how long I been on Osiris…another seven hours. Maybe." She looked apologetic. Simon couldn't help but sigh.

"I don't get it. I really don't. I…I saved her…I never let her out of my sight. I'm trying to heal her. Why didn't River tell them to wait?" he whispered. It had been a topic he'd been mulling over for hours—ever since he'd gotten left behind, really. Why had River abandoned him? Simon had given up thinking of her as anything but extraordinary: she knew things that she had no right to know. So why hadn't she alerted someone to Simon's disappearance? Unless…unless she'd known that he hadn't wanted to be found.

Kaylee looked as downtrodden as he felt. "I knew you were gone. The cap'n tried ta turn around, 'cept River fixed the controls so's we couldn't 'n said we weren't s'pposed ta go back."

Simon stiffened. Of course River had known that he was gone; she knew that he needed to be alone and had left him as such. He pulled himself up into a sitting position with his good arm and slid away from Kaylee.

"Simon, we really tried ta turn around, we just couln'. Ain't it enough I came back?" she asked despondently.

"You shouldn't have," he muttered. "You're better off with them."

Kaylee frowned. "Oh, I see now. You wanted ta get left." Her voice was hard and cold. "Couldn' 'ssociate with us live on _Serenity_. Had ta stay on Osiris cause ya couldn' tell us to our faces."

"Kaylee," Simon sighed.

"No, really, it's all right. I understand. It ain't yer home 'n never was. Ya left a pretty girl ta rescue River 'n now yer gettin' chummy again. I see it perfectly, right in front a my nose. Maybe she'll bail ya out so's the sentence ain't severe." She couldn't hide the hurt on her face, something she wasn't sure she regretted. She and Simon had had this silly argument several times and Kaylee wasn't about to have it again. If he didn't like _Serenity_, maybe it was about time he left.

"Th-that's what this is about?" he stuttered. "You saw me with Candace?"

"Kinda hard ta see with all the face suckin' goin' on," she replied. Her expression was dark.

"F-face…Kaylee!" Simon frowned.

"I was all ready ta give it up 'n fergive ya, y'know. But ya ain't the centre a the 'verse 'n yer life weren't all bad on _Serenity_. Or if it was, ya sure done a good job hidin' it."

"Kaylee…"

Kaylee withdrew to the opposite corner of the room, ignoring Simon's plea. Simon had been trying to get her to leave him alone since he had woken up, and it was about time she complied with his demand; Kaylee could give him that much. Incidentally, that wasn't what Simon had wanted at all.

The doctor groaned, hugged his knees to his chest, and gave it up.

XXX

Our footsteps are perfectly synchronized. It was not something that was taught to us, but rather something it was assumed we knew. The simultaneous click of highly polished shoes on tile or metal or wood is supposed to strike fear into the hearts of vics. It usually works, too: the arteries in their necks swell up like balloons, engorged with plasma and cellular matter; and the blood vessel begins to _thud_ violently, trying to break free of the restraints and just…pop. Sometimes that happens, even though it's not technically supposed to. The vic then hemorrhages to death and we move on. After all, we probably would have killed them manually anyway.

Even if the vic continues to live, they are not quite so stupid as to be unafraid. They will die, but in the meantime, it is amazing to watch their bodies light up like a children's toy. Every muscle tenses until something threatens to snap in half or come unattached while heat floods the body. They tend to shake a lot: a fine shivering that starts in the extremities and spreads through the body until the vic is completely overtaken by his bout of tremours. It is something akin to watching the string on an instrument vibrate and having the blurred movement be too fast for the normal eye to see. The whole transformation is fascinating to watch, especially when one considers that the same reaction occurs for a multitude of reasons. The same fine vibration of the skin and muscles that occurs after satisfying sex or extreme stress is nothing short of eye candy. People are fascinating creatures.

Cli-_click!_

My shoe strikes a wrong step; his hits a beat after mine. I had let myself get distracted.

"Easy," he warns. One word, muttered under the breath. I have seen others speak without words before, seen the _lesser_ jerk minutely back to position. He is still uneasy as _dominant_, even seven years after the fact.

Our steps merge again and there is no longer an issue. I will not step out of turn again, until the next incident. Despite his height advantage, I tend to walk faster than he does. He would have me believe that it is more menacing to go slow, but I know better. He cannot stand watching the vics as I do; he finds the process vile and disgusting. His reasons for becoming a Hand are much different than mine.

There is a clot of people milling about and blocking the hallway. They intend to keep visitors and prying eyes away from the inner cells. If they are the clot, we are sent to disband them: we are the antiplatelets.

There was no order to _stop_, but our movements are synchronized to perfection. I do not botch the step again. He smirks slightly, telling the clot with a charmed and cold look, that it is in our way, but if they would kindly move, we would spare their lives. In truth, _I_ would spare their lives because _he_ tells me to. Nevertheless, I do not fight him on this.

"We were told you'd be coming," one says, a brave one. The heat bleeds from his fingers into the major muscles in his body and his heart is working faster. Much faster. The anxiety is overwhelming him. "We've orders that you aren't to see them without proper signatures."

He glances at the brave one, presumably the leader, and fixes him with a faintly amused stare. "We've been sent to take them with or without struggle. You are inconsequential. We will have them."

I remain quiet, as is my duty. The leader of the clot flounders, searching for reasons and logic and answers. He is unsuccessful; for in the face of fear, there is no reason or logic: just a firm order to flee as fast as humanly possible. "Y-you can't have them. You can contact my superior and h-he'll tell you the exact same thing."

"We aren't concerned with your superior; your superior isn't the one denying us entrance, is he?"

"Technically, he is, sir," the man pointed out feebly.

I break my silence.

"He is not standing here in person waving political red tape in our eyes and demanding we see the bold text," I say coldly. My shoes are loud and sharp against the tile as I cross the small space and grip his neck in an unyielding fist. I doubt my expression slipped once; that much of my training has been ingrained deep.

_Stop! Now!_ he orders. I feel a desire to let go, willing me to free the rebellious man. I almost resist, but too late I see that I've made an impression. His face is burning in anger and fear and a throbbing pulse of trapped blood. My hand releases, and he crumples to the floor without a whimper.

My name is Ian, I am an instrument of the Blue Hand, and I kill people.

**Chinese** :

_Gwai-gwai long duh dong_!- What the hell!

_boo yao ming duh soo doo_ - Life risking speed

**The Omnipresent Honour Roll: garden-crafter- **No, I don't think Mal was at all pleased to hear about the trouble they're in. Or course...there's more trouble to be had still or I wouldn't call this an angst fic. **Lynx Ryder: **Phew! I updated! You can sit back in your chair now. Unless you...fell already, in which case, whoops! -sheepish grin- **lion-of-judah: **Save Wash Foundation...now that's a telethon I'd watch. **BlueEyedBrigadier: **I never liked Candace anyway. Something about them shafted loves is a turn off. I actually think we get some apologetic Mal eventually, and it won't be pretty.


	13. The Book of Kaylee III

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: PG-13, for violence and mild cursing

**Summary**: AU, post-BDM fic. Kaylee went back to fetch Simon and learned a lot about the doctor she wished she hadn't. While they try to reconcile their differences, it turns out that the Hands of Blue will take what they can get.

**Disclaimer**: I think I can say I own my Hands of Blue. Which is cool because I actually like them in their evilness.

**Author's Notes: **What do Simon and Kaylee think of their new friends? Not much, apparently. Honour Roll at the end.

**The Book of KAYLEE**

_part 3_

Kaylee heard the thump first, but she didn't register that the sound might be something dangerous. Lots of things tended to go thump, including the rusty plumbing that was snaked in through walls. Someone probably dropped some clothes or flushed a toilet or something. She replaced her head in her arms and sighed heavily. _Serenity_ was going to come, she was positive of that much, but it was a matter of _when_. Until then, she would content herself to stay secluded in her corner and try to think positively.

In fact, she didn't suspect a problem until she heard a strangled noise from Simon. Simon never made strangled noises. Kaylee glanced up again and frowned at the doctor to better extract an answer from him. He was huddled against the glass door of their cell, trying to peer down the hall at something.

"What's wrong?" Kaylee asked finally.

He didn't turn to meet her gaze immediately, but the look of fear colouring his eyes was enough. Simon was terrified of something in the corridor. Something that goes _thump_.

"Simon?" Kaylee tried to catch his attention again, though her voice was beginning to betray the first twitchings of fear. The doctor shook his head violently, as though trying to clear his ears of water. He still didn't turn to meet her concerned eyed.

"Th-they're here. Them. Th-the Blue Hand," he stuttered.

Kaylee didn't react immediately. She had heard tales of them like everyone else, but she hadn't put much stock in such scary people. All the tales told of cerulean-fingered people killing vast numbers of innocent people with their brains. Nobody wanted to believe in such horrible creatures. By the same token, that was also what she had also scorned the existence of Reavers until she'd gone and taken up residence on _Serenity_. However, she thought she remembered Simon saying something about blue gloved people right after the heist on Ariel. Something about screams drowned in liquid. An active imagination like Kaylee's supplied the word "blood" readily enough, just as Simon's medical expertise must have done the same.

"That's bad, ain't it?" she asked softly.

Simon nodded. "He just k-killed him. Just now. Bare hands."

Kaylee had never heard him choke on his own words before. "Out there?"

He nodded the affirmative again.

She crawled over to Simon to get a glimpse down the hall. The first look was innocent enough, because she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The second look yielded a body lying on the ground at a man's foot. It looked as though he might have been sleeping, until she examined the body further and noticed that he wasn't moving at all. The man wasn't breathing. The cadaver was folded beside a man who wore bright blue gloves. It wasn't until she saw the second blue-gloved person that she began to fear in earnest.

"Jus' like River said. Two by two…" Kaylee whimpered.

"Hands of blue," he confirmed.

She turned to him, eyes wide as dinner plates. "What're we gonna do?"

"What can we do?" Simon muttered.

"Yer not even gonna try 'n come up with a plan?"

"You're approaching this as if there is something we can do. We can't escape this time; they're right down the hall. Kaylee, we're doomed," he sighed. His bad mood had returned and Kaylee had no idea why. It really wasn't the time for antics.

"But Simon, there's gotta be somethin'—"

"No, Kaylee, there isn't. Mal can't help us; nobody on this planet likes me. Nobody is going to save us now. You should try to accept that and maybe they'll just kill us instead of torturing us first."

"But I don' wanna die," she said weakly.

"I'm doubting very much that they care."

Kaylee almost snapped back, almost told him what was on her mind. Instead, she rocked back on her heels so that she could stand up. There was no arguing with Simon while he was like that. He was convinced that they were going to die, and Kaylee had fought too hard recently just to give up. Why, on Miranda, she had been convinced that they were going to die, but they had won. Mal would have said it was because they were big damn heroes, but Kaylee just thought they were lucky. Lucky they had River to save them; lucky to have Simon get mildly injured to give River a reason to become the weapon the Feds had always wanted her to be. Kaylee wanted to be lucky. She wanted there to be some light in the black that offered hope and safety. But her silver lining was wearing thin, like some worry stone that had been rubbed once too often. In some ways, Simon had been her worry stone, and now…now he was huddling in a corner, polished to a mere sliver of the strength he'd once been.

He was probably still thinking about that dark-haired girl.

She heard the clack of in-synch footsteps coming closer, and the mechanic knew that now would be the perfect time for, as Jayne would say, "thrilling heroics." Kaylee wondered where the great brute and the rest of the crew were.

The two men stepped into view as though taking part in a well-rehearsed dance. The one on the left, the taller and darker of the two, smiled pleasantly before speaking, "Simon Tam." Simon flinched at his name, drawing into himself. "Simon Tam, you are to come with us peaceably."

"No. I'm not coming."

"Dr. Tam, this is your choice and yours alone, but we are encouraged to make you come as quietly as possible."

"It's not possible. Kicking and screaming or not at all." Simon's voice was dull and lifeless. Kaylee had never heard quite that tone from him before and it was starting to scare her. He sounded like he'd honestly given up all hope of life and the outside world. In that moment, Kaylee wished that she could do something, anything, to save him from that grim mindset. As long as it was in her power, she could not have him so close to death without cause ever again.

"Then permit us to take your friend here in your stead. We won't be long and we promise to give her back in fine condition. Exactly the same as how we find her." A smile quirked the edge of the tall one's lips. He seemed to be the talkative one. Not that the lighter Hand was any less intimidating. He was probably more so.

"K-Kaylee?" Simon couldn't stop his head from snapping up in disbelief, even as he flinched from the jerking of his wrist. She almost cringed when he'd reacted. Now that she obviously meant something to him, the Hands of Blue were not going to play fair at all.

"Kaylee? Pretty name. Pretty face. Kaylee, would you kindly come with us before we are forced to come to fetch you? Show Dr. Tam how to listen."

All of a sudden, she couldn't stop trembling. She was stricken with a fine shaking that raised gooseflesh all along her arms. She knew why Simon despaired now. This was fear.

XXX

My partner's indiscretions have cost us valuable bargaining leeway. They now expect pain, and they cringe unnecessarily when we so much as cough accidentally. It is quite inconvenient. I will have to teach him his place when we are alone, something in which I believe my superior height will aid. For now, however, we need to show a united front, especially in the face of Dr. Tam and his acquaintance. They are both liable to do something unexpected, though we will likely know if they aim to misbehave. Their thoughts are as an open book, not to mention their facial features. It shows in their expressions that they are scared, but the doctor looks to be burning with anger as well. It is a dangerous combination.

_And we shall do what we wish with her?_ my accomplice asks.

_Only if there is need. We keep our promises. No harm is to come to her unless there is _very_ good reason_.

That is it; my partner does not issue another request. Neither does the girl move. I allow my eyes to grow cold, so that she knows I am not merely playing.

"Miss, the less inclined you are to come with us, the rougher we will have to be."

_She does not respect you._ His voice perturbs me, and I sense that it is not she who does not respect me. I am not getting the job done quickly enough for my partner.

"She doesn't want to go, leave her alone. I'll go," Dr. Tam sighs. He is very unhappy and very angry.

"No, Dr. Tam, you've made it quite clear that you are not willing to cooperate. Come, miss, no dallying."

Her body looks warm, but her extremities are blue. She is anxious.

_You are too kind_, my associate reminds me. _Let me handle this._

I shake his presence off and extract the device from my pocket. It is a metal handle with a keypad; when the right combination is dialed, the rod emits an energy beam that is best suited to the task that one has dialed for it. The sonic screwdriver is standard issue for all Hands of Blue, and I make good use of it. The key fits easily and the door swings open. I now am in the presence of two fugitives with my irritated and impulsive partner at my back.

"Kaywinnit Lee Fry, this is the last opportunity you will have to come of your own accord. Should you choose not to, I can assure you that you will not like the methods we employ to extract you from this cell." I feel vaguely like I am talking to a particularly slow child.

"Why ain't I got a choice like Simon?" she asks softly. Her eyes…the pupils are dilated to an enormous degree. I imagine it is because of the ample lighting from the corridor that makes it difficult to see, but there is more to that innocent look than even overabundant backlighting.

"Because Dr. Tam is special and you are not. I'm sorry, miss." I wasn't sorry, but that was beside the point.

"O-okay. I'll go." She hastily makes good on her word, levering herself upright to stand on two wobbly legs. Most of the heat had left the limbs, leaving her to stumble into a wall. It is inefficient, terribly inefficient. The human body is nothing but a profound waste of energy and resources.

"You can't do this!" Dr. Tam rages. He jumps to his feet, intent on teaching me a lesson. My partner pins him against the wall rather easily as I escort the girl out of the cell. He gasps, presumably from the grip on his shattered wrist, but the doctor still insists on doing what he can for her: screaming her name at the top of his nearly empty lungs. My associate has him wedged tightly against the cold stone, making breathing a difficult task.

"Kaylee!"

"I'm alright, Simon. I don't think they're gonna do nothin' ta me," she says warily, cowing under my hand. She either believes in her statement, or she desperately wants to; there is no blush to her face that indicates a level of foolhardy bravado.

"Kaylee, don't let them hurt you!"

"You aren't allowed to talk, Tam. Not a word." My colleague is yet again falling out of my control and getting caught up in bloodlust as he so often does. If he were not required to keep his suit immaculate, he would allow himself to go about in red stained garments with his gloves permanently dyed purple.

_Come. Now!_ I order. I feel his resistance, his anger. He knows we've come for the doctor, but not why we have left him in the cell. He sends the impression that the girl is naught but a waste of time.

"Kaylee, you're going to be a good girl, aren't you?" I ask delicately.

She nods. She smells like fear.

"Good girl, Kaylee. It's going to be all right for as long as Dr. Tam cooperates. Isn't that so, doctor?"

He says nothing, just as my partner has instructed him. It demonstrates weakness and I dislike it. He reminds me of why I am a Hand, and gives me a reason to continue this miserable job; for I am Coi, and I will not be liked.

**Chinese:**

_N/A_

**Honour Roll: Lynx Ryder: **Nope, not pretty at all. The end of this chapter's going to get mighty ugly. **Miggyrow: **Thanks muchly! Here's the update! **garden-crafter: **It's always Simon's fault, but oh well. I really like Wash and Kaylee far too much, but they have that inconvenient saying you always hurt the ones you love. **Jas-TheMaddTexan: **You know, I really like that, they speak and they speak of evil. Welcome back to the fold! **BlueEyedBrigadier: **I always feel worse for Mal when he'd angsting, just on principle. Simon's woes are usually laughable, I think it's the uprightness of the character. But there's a whole lot more angst on the horizon, so let's get to it.


	14. The Book of Kaylee IV

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: R(!), for adult situations not suitable for children

**Summary**: AU, post-BDM fic. Kaylee went back to fetch Simon and learned a lot about the doctor she wished she hadn't. While they try to reconcile their differences, it turns out that the Hands of Blue will take what they can get.

**Disclaimer**: Still own jack except for my eeeeeeeeevil Hands of Blue.

**Author's Notes: **Okay guys, this chapter gets racy. Not detailed, but the situation coming up isn't pleasant at all. Be aware of the rating increase, okay? Without further ado, the next installment.

**The Book of KAYLEE**

_part 4_

The room is very big they brung me to. It's open 'n makes me uncomfortable. I ain't got my miracle yet; Jayne ain't showed up, nor Mal, nor 'Nara, nor nobody. I'm all alone now.

The dark one is kinda gentle with me, so it ain't so bad. Not yet, anyway, I don' think. I'm still afraid, though. I guess anyone would be, in my case. I ain't gonna let 'em know I'm afraid, not unless I can't help it. Thinkin' about Simon helps, cause even though I'm mad at him, I ain't never seen him so vengeful as he gets fer River. Maybe he really does like me.

The blond one sits me in a chair roughly so's I know who I'm dealin' with. Ain't like I'm goin' anywhere anyway. Can't stop my knees rattlin' fer nothin' 'n it's gettin' kinda bothersome. The dark one leans against the wall'n just watches me, 's though I'm 'bout ta do somethin' innerestin'.

"What now?" the Blond asks carelessly. He misses the look a death the dark one gives 'im. I think I was s'pposed ta miss it too.

"Nothing. We leave her here. We bring her back tomorrow."

"It isn't much of a threat just giving her back as is. He won't fear us."

Seems's though Blond's edgylike, even as Dark's losin' int'rest again. Mal'd be proud a me fer keepin' a cool head 'n 'valuatin' stuff like he's always doin' when things is gettin' dangerous. I can't promise it'll stay cool though, iffin they keep talkin' 'bout torturin' me like I ain't even here. Them's uncomfortin' folk.

"It's what we promised. He is agitated, which is what we want. He will comply with us in fear that one day we _will_ bloody her up." Dark ain't lookin' up 'n payin' 'ttention none. He shoulda, though, 'cause I don't trust Blond no more. Don't trust either a them, really, 'cept Dark don't seem so inclined ta hurt me.

"And we are just going to stand guard over her until tomorrow," Blonde remarks really boredlike.

"No. We have guards to do that. I'm sure the man you killed would have done an honourable job of it." I thought Dark sounded angry, but it had ta be an accident. I ain't never heard of a Hand a Blue bickerin' before. Fact, I really only heard a them comin' like plague 'n killin' everyone in sight.

"He was impudent," Blond is arguin'. "We need to punish the girl before she gets the idea that we are weak."

There is def'nite heat exchanged between the two, 'n I def'nitely feel left out in a big way. It feels like them's still arguin' over me, but with their eyes or somethin'. I feel cold just stayin' in their presence.

"I'm going to procure some guards. Don't let her out of your sight." Dark looks 'bout as cold as I'd seen 'im since I first met 'im. I musta really missed somethin' big.

I really wanned ta comment on the ominous nature a leavin' me alone with Blond, but I didn' have the heart. Dark left, 'n Blond took over a position against the wall. He was watchin' me kinda funny, ta the point that I had ta say somethin'.

"Are ya gonna hurt me like ya said?"

He nods. "That is my plan, yes."

"But ya ain't gonna do it now."

"No, I'm not."

Mal mighta been proud—'cause I was bein' brave right then—but I sure didn't feel brave.

XXX

The girl is young, pretty, and well guarded by him. As long as he is around, I can't touch her without his knowing. If I am going to do this properly, I need to be careful so that he does not find out for a good, long while. He will find out eventually—that much is inevitable—but if I am careful, he will not realize anything in the foreseeable future. I will rely on my stealth and my wit, both of which are in good supply. Incidentally, as long as I am able to slip past him, I don't foresee a problem with the operation.

Above all, he must remain ignorant. It is by far the more agreeable course of action, considering his strong opposition to harm. If he catches me, there will be far more than hell to pay, but there are some things in life that a man cannot resist. I will hurt her, her childlike innocence, and there are many ways to hurt a person without physically injuring them. That is the objective of the game. After all, life as an instrument of the Hands of Blue is nothing but a very elaborate game of "Who is the best at being the most devious?" I am proud to count myself among the Best.

He returns eventually with his trained Alliance minions, though they all look unhappy to be in his presence. I don't think that I can blame them, and I myself am not even completely under his employ. I merely work alongside him; were I to be engaged, there would be death.

He carefully positions them to his liking and orders them not to so much as touch the girl before he starts to leave. He expects me to follow tamely, not even giving a formal order to do so. This time, he had won, as we move as two. Two Hands go in, two Hands come out. I am not allowed to abandon him, lest I embrace an unsavoury fate at the hands of more experienced and knowledgeable Hands than I. I do not dread such an encounter, though I do not tempt it either.

I spare a last look for the girl before I leave. I will have to take her tonight.

XXX

Kaylee almost visibly relaxed when the last of the Blue Hand had left. She was aware of still having guards around her and watching her, but they didn't seem nearly as dangerous as the two men that had previously been in the room. There was no choking presence about these people; they were human.

"You ain't got nothin' ta do 'round here, do ya?" she asked hopefully of one sullen guard. They all looked pretty disheartened, but this one looked the least likely to be angry with her if she asked a simple question.

"No."

"Ya sure? No…puzzles or nothin'?"

"No."

Kaylee didn't keep up the conversation long. There was clearly no point in alienating these men, in case they got nasty and took it out on her. She planned to get out of this encountre without any cuts or bruises like the dark-haired Hand had promised. Besides, if she was hurt, Simon would fly into a rage and they would never be able to escape. She vaguely wondered what Simon was doing right then, whether he was okay or not. She willed him silently to behave and wait for _Serenity_ to find them.

Sleep came easily to her, once she realized that she truly had nothing to do. There was a cot of sorts set up in the corner and it was around the same level of comfort as her hammock in _Serenity_'s engine room. She wondered if Wash had figured out how to fix the wire crossings that River had made. Kaylee missed _Serenity_, and it was thoughts of her wonderful little Firefly that helped ease her into a dreamless and restless sleep.

She didn't notice when the guards stumbled out of her cell in panic. They would later claim that they had been overcome with a severe and debilitating bout of "the willies," but Kaylee was blissful and completely unaware of the circumstances that led to their flight. She didn't notice the entrance of the man in white, either.

"Kaylee. Kaylee, wake up," he called. Kaylee groaned and curled up into a tighter ball. He tried again. "Kaylee? Kaylee, I love you, but please open your eyes? For me?"

The line was vaguely familiar, as was the voice speaking it. Kaylee allowed herself to slide an eyelid open slightly. The blurred vision didn't immediately put the form into any recognizable shape, but it looked like a person. Angular jaw, severe eyebrows, dark hair…

"Simon?" she mumbled.

"Hi." He smiled apologetically then, as though he was sorry for waking her up. "I um…I wanted to make sure you were alright after they took you and—"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. They didn' harm me." Kaylee paused, a frown wrinkling her features slightly. "Simon…did you just say—"

He looked to be blushing, though she wasn't sure in the dim light. "I wanted to see if you'd wake up."

"So ya don' love me?" For being half asleep, she felt oddly disappointed.

"Of course I love you. I just…I thought it'd wake you up a bit faster."

"Oh…well that makes sense…"

"Are you really alright?" he asked softly. Kaylee smiled to see his face crinkle in worry.

"Yeah, Simon, I'm fine. Ya got outta them colourful clothes," she said wistfully. "I liked 'em."

"Maybe I'll put them back on later." Simon ran his fingers over her cheek, a small smile quirking his lips. Kaylee took his hand in both of hers so that she could nuzzle it. He smelled just like she remembered: slightly of rubbing alcohol and slightly of fresh soap.

"I'd like that."

"Good." Simon leaned in close, ghosting kisses down her nose.

Kaylee giggled, taking his face in her hands to stop his tickling. Simon allowed the movement, remaining still so that she could do what she liked. The doctor smiled coyly, waiting for her to make a move.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," she murmured. Kaylee did just that: she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his.

"'M glad fer that," he mumbled, letting his lips vibrate against hers. When he felt her hum in response, he parted her lips gently with his tongue.

Kaylee, for her part, let him lead the kiss. In fact, she was more than a little surprised that he had actually taken the initiative. Simon had always been too shy before, and Kaylee had always imagined that he was somewhat ignorant of it. However, she wasn't about to complain or rationalize it further. Simon did apparently know how to kiss really well.

She scooted over to let Simon climb into the cot beside her, eager to hold and touch him. Kaylee had Mal once told before that she had "not had anything twixt her nethers weren't run on batteries." Originally, she had said it to shock Mal into keeping Simon on _Serenity_. Now, she realized that there had actually been more to it than shock, and she really, really needed physical contact.

Simon complied with her silent requests, sliding onto the mattress without releasing his hold on her arm. He ran his free hand through her hair, easing her head towards his own for another kiss. Kaylee shivered beneath his touch as the fingers that were tangled in her tresses wandered down her neck and shoulders and back.

Ian allowed his mouth to follow his fingers' path, nipping and sucking down the strong line of her neck.

"Simon…" she breathed. Her eyes had squeezed closed, as though she had seen something unbearable, but Ian suspected it was something else entirely. He rolled them over—himself on top—to test his theory.

"Love you, Kaylee," he smiled lazily.

"Simon!"

Ian had but one thought before he accepted the spoils of his clever plan. _She is going to feel mighty silly in the morning_…

**Chinese:**

_N/A_

**Honour Roll: bonesfirefly: **Here you go! **Jas-TheMaddTexan: **They really are like puppies, just slightly angrier. How about pit bull puppies? Cerulean's my favorite colour. **garden-crafter: **Simon and Kaylee are like yin and yang personified. That's why they're so perfect for each other. And no, definitely no trusting the HoB. (Rather sounds a bit like SoB, doesn't it?)


	15. The Book of River I

**The Hole in the 'verse**

An alternative Firefly story

**Rating**: R, for adult situations not suitable for children

**Summary**: AU, post-BDM fic. Simon and Kaylee can't get off Osiris on their own, so the Big Damn Heroes will have to come in and save the day. But what does River have to say on the matter?

**Disclaimer**: I may own my Hands of Blue, but not much else.

**Author's Notes: **This is the beginning of the Book of River and I'm really sorry about not posting any installments last month, but I was doing NaNoWriMo. And now that I've won, I can post more. Cool huh?

**The Book of RIVER**

_part 1_

The eye is open and seeing nothing. The mind spins and spins and comes to smoke and rubber. She doesn't know how it happened. She should have seen it and yet…she had not. She had failed them.

Captain Daddy gives access to Serenity; gives it to the people who came in the box, packed up like little fishes swimming against the current of time and viscous space. They look happy, but masks obscure false eyes. Birds waiting to escape, fly. Forgotten what they are; most creatures do in _Serenity's_ belly. Captain Daddy forgets the most, and Simon tries hard to do the same. Not his fault that the girl reminds him too much.

The fish are attentive, silently gaping when Captain Daddy tries to keep them safe and secure. They are quivering and trying to be brave like him. "The common area, the mess and the empty bunks are all for your use. Try not to trash nothin'…'n stay outta the engine room, the bay and the bridge. We're gonna try not ta stay on Osiris long, but we kinda ran into a problem. We're gonna land, get our crew back, continue on our merry. Y'all are okay with that?"

No sound escapes, the hole sucks it up. A hole in the 'verse eats stars and planets and souls like candy. Mouths flap, lives stolen. They can't express themselves. Even the girl can't speak, though she tries very hard to.

"They've come. Hands tainted and stained black. They breed and spread until it is a blanket covering everything and making it cold. Colder and blacker than space."

"Thank you, River, for destroyin' the calm." The captain is mad, mad, mad for speaking and blocking the hole with nothingness. He can't comprehend! The hole is backed up and gives them breathing room; room to live and speak again, but he doesn't understand. She wishes she could tell him but the words aren't right, and they never come out as they should. They are always different than when they are in her mind.

Fishes are clenching though the hole is releasing. They're shivering, scales flashing in the sun. They're trying to be sunny and optimistic, but they can't be for long; when they feel cold, they shake. They are growing red, redder, reddest until they are likely to explode. Dead fishes on the ground, drying in the sun.

"What is she talking about?" Little fish, little voice.

"Nothin', just…our crew can't come back on their own, we gotta fetch 'em up. When we land, we'll be leaving you with our ambassador, Inara. River will be staying here, and um…that's it. In, out: quicklike."

"Feds?"

"No, not at all." Captain Daddy smiles, but he is lying. He is grey, emotionally tired and needs a nap. His lies aren't believable, too long without sleep. He thinks he is lying, but he's not.

"Shining, can't escape the light. It's everywhere, it's watching and it will come to get us. It already has us and it wants more. It's drawing us in and will clamp us down when the opportune moment zips by…" she giggles, mimicking a flying noise Pilot Flyer taught her. She never forgets. She can't forget. The fishes are lost and won't forget because they've seen her and are afraid.

"L-light? Captain, what is wrong—?"

"Nothin's wrong. She our _meimei_ 'n if ya got a problem with that, I suggest ya take it up with another boat ain't mine."

Their quivering will shake the 'verse with things unsaid, but the hole is opening up again, rendering them quiet. Quiet little fish tucked in a box. Opened inside another box named _Serenity_. They can't stand it and don't wish to go to Osiris, but they can't speak. Some wish to, but most are too sick and diseased to. They've been living in preservatives too long, their brains shriveled and slurped up in so much juice. The girl tries to smile for them, but she is greeted with discomfort, unhappy sideways glances going foreways, sideways, diagonalways, frontways, slantways. They're everywhere, the accusing eyes.

**What's wrong with her?**

**Is she crazy?**

**Why's she here?**

**She's scarin' me.**

**This is all sorts a unnerving.**

An anchor clutches at her back, brings her around to focus on something. A tether dragging her out of the sea of eyes and setting her on solid ground and she is more grateful than Captain Daddy will ever know. His rough fingers prodding her spine and guiding her out of the ocean and back onto _Serenity_. The door slams closed on the mob and she is better.

"The eyes accuse and drown."

"I know, lil albatross. Don't make much a them. Them's folk don't know better 'n we gotta be the bigger men. 'N women."

"Captain Daddy looks for his family. Shepherd tending his flock." When the girl realizes what she's said, there is panic. She almost wishes she could take it back, but there is no way. It had been sucked out of her. He is taken with curiosity, knows not why she's said what she said.

"Ain't no Shepherd. No God on my boat. There's just us." And that is how Captain Daddy would have it.

"She knows, she cannot elaborate!" Rages and fumes and the emotion cannot—does not leave! Captain Daddy does not fear the girl's violence; he grips her in a hold that is meant to still her and there is nothing there but feelings swirling red and orange and yellow spiraling about her and pressure on her stomach. Cooling pressure, blues and greens. He does not fear her.

"Weren't askin' ya to 'laborate. Weren't askin' ya to freak out neither, but I'm guessin' I got lucky with this deal. Ain't gonna go about killin' nobody, right?"

The girl squirms in his arms; she is flush against him still, but sideways now, able to face him. "He is blue."

"Not my favorite colour to date."

"But he is not yellow!"

"Weren't yellow fer a long time, lil albatross. I'm gonna let you go now. Try not ta make me regret it, _dong ma_?"

She smiles shaking her head. The girl does not mean for him to be angry or sad, and she wishes to do her best for him. "_Mei ren zai jiang shang hai ta_."

"**Don't really believe ya, meimei, but I always do seem ta trust ya. **So long's I've got a say in it, ya speak truth." Twin snakes uncoiling around her stomach, freeing her and giving her the space to dance. He seems happy, but he is blue as well. He thinks too much and too fast. He needs love, but he cannot find it.

"They are gone. Left for regrouping and planning. Peaceable but not. Falsely sweet. She continues to watch for her brother and sister."

Lips stretching, stretching until they are no longer unfeeling. "You do that lil albatross. Ya may wanna consider keepin' to yer bunk though, lest these folk take me at my offer. You'll be wantin' sleep anyway, 's a long day."

"She is not tired, but she understands the sentiment." Because he is tired. He needs the sleep, but he is not allowed to until everyone is safe. His eyes crinkle again, he is full of humour, and he leaves to do captain duties. The girl contemplates wandering, but decides that it would be better to get lost among thoughts and space than _Serenity_'s intestines. She slips into her room and delights in the feel of warm fuzz and synthetic cotton beneath cold and weary limbs that fought an ocean today.

She does not remember falling asleep, nor does the girl know whether she is sleeping. Captain Daddy is stopped outside the blue sick place; Companion Momm_y_ is inside looking out. They want to talk, but it is impossible. No meaningful words exchanged between people observed by the Fuzz. Captain Daddy invades the blue sick room to try anyway.

"He livin'?"

"So he'd have us believe."

The Fuzz is blustering and howling. Fake anger. Companion Mommy is mirthful.

"Wha's wrong with my livin'?"

"Nothin'! Nothin's wrong. **Kinda wish you'd stop tryin' stupid stuff though**"

"You ain't 'sactly boostin' my confidence none. **Hm…my leg kinda itches. I wish I could scratch it…**"

"I wasn't aware that I was supposed to boost his confidence. I'm sorry, Mal. **I hope you have a plan**"

"No harm done, 's just Jayne. **He'd better be fit to take on the blue folk.**"

"Oh, well then. **I did the best I could**"

"Uh, I c'n HEAR you."

"Yeah, Jayne's gonna bounce right back cause he's annoyin'ly resilient like that. **We hope so, anyway.**"

"Hey!"

"He really is. **It'll all be okay, Mal.**"

"I know."

"Mal, now that ain't fair!"

"Plenty fair. Think ya can still shoot straight?"

"Wha—? Uh…yeah, think so, Mal…**What the ruttin' hell is he on?**"

"Shiny. **Even though it's bad that we need cripples to fight our battles with us.**"

"Uh…when's this? **I need drugs.**"

"Soon. We gotta land first. **Don't get hurt or wasted between now and then.**"

"Okay…**Can I get some drugs now?**"

The girl chooses to follow Captain Daddy. He is wandering in interspace, but he has left the blue sick room. The girl does not like that room. Companion Mommy is pulled along on the invisible ropes that Captain Daddy gives off. Fuzz is left behind grasping for oblivion to get lost in; Captain Daddy and Companion Mommy want the same, though it slips through their fingers. It has always been since Companion Mommy left.

"Mal…Mal, what are you thinking?" Her voice is heavy, trying to force its ways to his ears and be understood despite or because of the gravity. Gravity is a state of mind and everyone would fly if they knew how to let go. Captain Daddy and Companion Mommy are too stubborn; the girl just wishes they would accept the inevitable.

"Thinkin' about my crew. Blue Sun ain't gonna give 'em up so easy, even if it ain't River."

"And you have ideas."

"Not so much. **None that I wouldn't feel guilty for tomorrow.**"

"Were you just going to march up to them and demand they release your doctor? **Mal, please tell me you're smarter than this.**"

"**I wish it were that easy.** No. I'll think of something."

"Something that's going to get you killed, no doubt."

The 'verse stops. Everything creaks to a crackling static. But that is an untruth, some things speed up faster than before, hamsters in gigantic wheels.

"**I shouldn't have said that.**"

"**She ain't changed, not a bit.**"

"**I'm sorry, Mal.**"

"**Why the hell does she insist on baitin' me?**"

Smoke pours out their ears and noses as their eyes fumble to meet the other's, but they always miss. They can't coordinate so they slip by in feet, yards and miles. Slippery eyes, mouths full of smoke. Captain Daddy blinks first, gags on cotton, clears his throat.

"No doubt. But we'll try anyway. Try till we can't do no more."

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"**What's that?**Because I want my mechanic 'n my doc back."

"**Selfish pig.** Of course."

"**She hates me.**"

They are far apart now, no chance for togetherness anymore. Companion Mommy ascends to the creature called God who creates impossible stories of incalculable arcs and bloodthirsty vegetarian whales. Captain Daddy descends to the special hell the Shepherd gave him. Nobody talks in the theatre anymore except his thoughts, which are loud enough to drown the whole thing out. His thoughts begin to do more than drown; they become the stage and the dialogue and the characters. It's not so special because everyone has one, their own little pocket hell with a stage and vaudevillians to act for them. The girl has one, but she doesn't admit it. Saying it aloud makes it real and Simon doesn't like it to be real because it hurts her and he doesn't want to see her hurt. He loves and misses his _meimei_ and would do anything to get her to come back, but River cannot come back because she is flying away, too swept up in the lack of gravity and she cannot help but spin and twirl and soar and she will not be home in time for supper, but she is very sorry for that. Do not wait up for River; she will be along eventually, but she is busy now, keeping watch and transcending time and human existence. Creatures, life, used to be a point on a page of words and numbers and meaningless characters, and now it has become the collocations of phrases and tries to mean more than it is. Life still wastes and hates and cruelness divides it. It is easy to read, and it makes her unhappy to do so.

But the girl knows she has to look for Simon now. Captain Daddy would like that.

**Chinese: **

_Mei ren zai jiang shang hai ta_- Nothing will hurt her anymore.

**Honour Roll: bonesfirefly: **Not a problem! **Lynx Ryder: **Sorry, it wasn't much of a hurry, but…hey, it's River! And, well, angst, but that's a given, right? **garden-crafter: **Them's evil folk, they are. They'll get theirs in the end, but it's gonna be a bit of an uphill battle. **gnattheinsect: **Truth be told, Simon's a bit of a wreck himself. Thanks for the compliment though!


End file.
